


Wishing on Raindrops

by TheBohemian



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Domestic Violence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Just like buckets and buckets of angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 59,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1893861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBohemian/pseuds/TheBohemian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in which a depressive, drunken Eren Jaeger gets in a bar fight over a very unhappy and emotionally unhinged Armin Arlert, and Armin's already shitty love life falls to shambles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and things are subject to change as updates are added so please keep an eye on those.  
> I don't want to make you guys unhappy!
> 
> (find me on tumblr at conniespiringer.tumblr.com to critique or distract me from writing. please distract me from writing.)

For Armin Arlert, today was the worst possible of days. 

It had been one of those days that just kind of starts out bad and becomes progressively worse with time until it's snowballing beyond control. Armin had been past the point of saving before 9 that morning. Yeah, it was that bad. 

He'd overslept, he hadn't showered, forgot to brush his hair, spilled coffee on his best shirt, missed the job interview of a lifetime, left his wallet at home in the chaos of his tattered morning routine leaving himself unable to buy lunch; he broke his glasses, got stuck in the rain waiting for his ride home, and stepped in a puddle which ruined his right shoe.

Throughout it all though, he'd held onto the hope that the night would improve a day's worth of hardship. Tonight, he would meet up with Jean, and his problems would melt away. Jean could ease all the issues of the day, renew his frayed nerves, and reassure him that life would return to normalcy in a shower of rushed, accidentally violent kisses.

He needed that.

Normally, Jean had just what it took to right all the wrongs that Armin went up against, but, recently, things just hadn't felt right.

He was slipping.

Regardless, they'd planned to meet at the boardwalk at 8. They'd planned to have a nice dinner. They'd planned for a good evening centered around one another. But, of course, when Jean was involved, nothing ever went exactly to plan.

Armin was not in the mood for it.

He arrived five minutes early and had no choice but to wait alone in the rain. People passed with pitying smiles, and as time ticked by those smiles became the most irritating sight in the world. Still, he tried to smile back. They didn't deserve his anger. Jean, on the other hand, Jean did. 

 

Jean arrived at the pier thirty-five minutes late with coffee, and was greeted by a drenched and silently fuming Armin. His clothes clung to him, and he wreaked of dirty water which dripped down his overgrown locks. The angry black cloud that had been his entire day loomed heavily over his head.

"Where, Jean? Where have you been?" He practically growled and was surprised by his own bite.

Jean gave him a once-over with a steely expression.  "I told you I was working late, didn't I?" His hand wrapped around the back of his neck, and he shrugged limply. That was always his version of an apology.

"No," Armin took a bold step forward, he hoped the tears that threatened to spill would blend into the pounding rain which ran down his face in streams, "you didn't tell me, Jean." His voice wavered. "You never tell me," he muttered, dropping his gaze.

Jean's expression softened as soon as his weakness was exposed. This is how it always was with them. He was only gentle and loving when Armin had surpassed his limit. A warm arm wrapped around Armin's shoulders and pulled him in close to Jean's torso.

His head rested against Jean's chest in defeat. He dropped the argument as he always did, and they began to walk.

 

They strolled in silence for a long while, listening to the rain pound Jean's umbrella and the sidewalk below. Sheets of water sprayed from the streets as cars passed. Small huddles of people passed in giggling groups, smiles glued on their rain streaked faces.

Armin grew annoyed with the lack of conversation.

"How was work?" He asked in a soft whisper. He found that he was unable to look at Jean directly without feeling a mixture of hurt and anger. It was best just to study the ground. It was safe.

"Huh?" Jean tilted his head downward.

"I asked how work was," Armin's voice had a distinct edge that Jean didn't miss.

The taller man stood upright, back straight, stoic eyes looked around aimlessly as he answered shortly. "It was fine. Long day, but it was okay, I guess."

For as long as Armin had known his partner, Jean had never been one to spare unnecessary words. He was always clipped and honest in every phrase he uttered. Under normal circumstances, Armin tolerated it easily, but now, he couldn't stand it.

Armin found himself grinding his teeth. He quickly settled himself into the passive boy he always had been.

"Do you want to know how my day was?" He sounded more damaged and weary than he ever wanted to lead on. His cracked glasses slipped down the bridge of his slick nose.

Jean was perceptive. Armin knew that Jean could plainly see something was wrong, but he was not one to console, so he didn't even bother to mention it.

"I figured you'd talk about it if you wanted me to know," Jean replied simply.

Armin's stomach knotted and his chest squeezed uncomfortably.

"Well, sometimes it'd be nice if you asked," he said in a soft huffing sigh, "at least show you're a little interested."

"You know I am," Jean's grip tightened around him, "so talk to me."

"I'm glad it's over," Armin muttered, fingering the coffee stain on the front of his shirt, "my day I mean," he amended quickly.

Jean barely noticed as he led Armin into a dimly lit bar. 

In the back of his mind, Armin knew that the only time they went to bars was when stress was high and drunkenness was the only solution to get through their time together. He kept the thought to himself.

Armin kept his gaze down as he was led to a booth and slid in silently. He ignored everyone else there. He pretended not to hear the laughter around him. The men cheering at the mounted television grated on his nerves.  He propped his chin in his palm. A steep frown tugged at his lips. 

Steadily, Jean pulled the glasses from Armin's face and examined the cracked lens with limited interest once they were both seated. "We'll get this fixed over the weekend," he commented noncommittally.

"Okay," Armin breathed. "That'll be great." He tried for a smile.

It was painful.

Jean gave him a calculating look as he sat the glasses aside, but refused to speak, as if a single word would break the thin ice he tread. It probably would.

 

They ate in cold silence. Jean drank more than he breathed. Armin had never known him to down so much alcohol in one sitting.

"Are you okay?" Armin's voice was muffled behind his hand.

Jean looked up, the light above their table caught his honey colored eyes perfectly. Armin felt his heart squeeze. He really was a beautiful man. Armin wasn't sure why he felt himself losing interest. He could never do better than Jean. There was no better for him.

A lump formed in the back of his throat.

Jean took his time in responding. He sat up straighter, arms folded over one another across the table top. He leaned forward slightly.

"Are you?" His eyebrows raised.

Suddenly, Armin regretted asking. He looked away sheepishly, eyes falling on a particularly miserable looking man in the back of the bar. He felt as though they would get along. Quickly, before Jean could notice, he tore his eyes away.

"Do you want the truth, Jean?" His voice sounded frail even to his own ears. He heard Jean shuffle across the table.

"Naturally," Jean's voice had become hard. He spoke in monotone when his temper was brewing.

Armin inhaled through his nose. Stale smoke and cheap beer flooded his senses. 

"I-," he laughed and rubbed his eyes between his fingers. His blonde hair fell in his face as he bowed his head. "I am so far from okay."

He shrunk into himself at the words.

"Why?" the reply came too quickly. Jean was on edge. He always was when he wasn't in control. He was a leader. He reacted poorly to being taken off guard though he'd never admit to it.

Armin peaked through the sheet of his bangs which separated him from his partner.

"Why?" Armin practically squeaked. Tears pricked his eyes. "What do you mean why? Do you think this relationship is healthy? Do you think we're  _alright_?" He felt his tone rising, but he was beyond the point of caring. His day had been shit and he was going to yell if he pleased. "What do you mean  _why_?" 

Each word was punctuated by a huffing breath. His blood boiled under his skin.

Jean remained silent though his teeth were bared. Dark shadows streaked heavily across his long face. "Sit down, Armin," his voice became gruff with annoyance.

He hadn't realized he was standing. He used it to his advantage, leaning against the table. Armin had never looked down on Jean before. He felt a surge of power. For one fleeting moment he felt brave.

"Jean, this entire night has been miserable. My day has been miserable, and for a while, this relationship has been miserable, too. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Don't you dare lie to me about what I can plainly see."

His wide blue eyes burned as heated tears rolled down his cheeks in steady streams. 

Slowly, Jean rose forcing Armin to shrink back. He was completely in control of his brewing anger. Armin could see the fire growing behind his eyes.

He sat down without another word, lips pursed.

He always, always stepped down.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Armin Arlert."

He folded in on himself at the mention of his name. He hated himself for being so incapable of standing up. He hated being so afraid. He hated the fact that he would never really know what it was to be free in a relationship.

Armin felt every single pair of eyes in the small pub land on them, and, in that moment, he hated them too.

Jean could make him happy. He had made Armin happy once upon a time, but life had moved on in time and they had changed. They were no longer care free kids in college who just wanted someone for company and an occasional fuck, and because of that they were no longer compatible. Only Armin could see that, though.

Once Jean cared about something, his passion was impossible to stifle or suffocate. Jean himself was a raging fire which refused to settle. He was composed of burning passion and the need to succeed. He wanted comfort and quaint, safe happiness.

Armin couldn't provide that, yet Jean was so blinded by his own yearning he couldn't see it.

He was so tired of feeling like Jean's pet. Of course, Armin knew that Jean never meant any harm. He knew Jean cared for him immensely, but that didn't ease the feeling of being more of a possession than a companion.

"Wouldn't you?" Armin challenged, arms crossed over his chest. Sweat beaded along his forehead under the heavy weight of wandering eyes watching their every move. When Jean stayed silent just a beat too long, Armin continued. He spoke in a single breath. "Jean, I know you lie to me every chance you get. You stayed after for business work, you had a late meeting, you had to get coffee with your boss, Jean, do you think I'm stupid? Seeing you used to make me happy and now it's like I have to keep myself from suffocating in self-loathing every time you even spare me a passing glance."

He cried freely and past his cloudy eyes, he could see Jean. Jean Kirschtein. Beautiful, bold, brash, cunning, talented in everything he set his mind to do. Wonderful, wonderful Jean. That Jean was no longer the man he loved though.

He'd fallen for _the_ Jean, the freshman in college who wore ratty band tee-shirts, smoked too much, and talked too loudly. He needed Jean the art student who bought him flowers and sketched his profile in his spare time just because he was "really pretty deep in thought."

God, he missed the Jean he'd had before adulthood took it all away.

He still kept the drawings. Sometimes he cried over them at night when it all became too much. Sometimes he held them because he needed a reminder than their relationship meant something. Sometimes he traced the fading lines with the tips of his fingers just because he needed a reminder that love was a real thing; just because he needed to know there was something worth holding onto.

"You think I'm cheating on you?" Jean's voice had sank another octave once he'd finally found the means to speak.

Armin stayed silent. That was conformation enough for Jean.

In an instant, the man was on his feet. Armin sucked in a shallow breath before biting the inside of his cheek nervously.

"You think  _I_ would cheat on you?"

"That's not all that's wrong," Armin grumbled. "You're different now, Jean. You changed, and I hate it."

His face contorted in ugly distaste. "I changed? Fuck, Armin, did you think I was going to stay 19 forever? Did you think I'd keep a goddamn undercut and stay a dead-beat artist going nowhere forever? Obviously," he face was hardened, his voice was barely audible though the bar had gone completely silent, "I changed."

Armin's tongue felt thick in his mouth and his head felt as though it was swimming as he pushed away from their dining table. Multiple times he opened his mouth, but the words he needed were lost. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should say something. He wanted to defend himself. He wanted Jean to know that he didn't miss the haircut and the paint that seemed to always stay in his hair and on his fingertips. He didn't miss the material things. 

But the words wouldn't come. Instead, tears took their place, and he deflated.

"Don't wait up for me tonight," Armin whispered as he walked past, hands tucked securely in his pants pockets. He didn't want Jean to lose sleep over him. Even when he hated the man, Armin needed Jean to be at his best. He needed Jean to know that he still waned him well.

Armin called it a character flaw; Jean called it humanity.

Whatever it was, Armin despised it in this very moment.

When Jean began to speak, Armin whipped around on his heels in a flash. His hair hung in his face and clung to the wetness there, "don't," he warned. "Just, rest well, alright? Just. Do it for me, Jean. Do something for me."

Jean reached out for Armin's arm, but was rejected in a single second when the blonde yanked away. It took everything Armin had not to turn around and apologize.

"Don't," Armin said again. His voice cracked pitifully.

There were whispers around the bar. Jean's ears began to turn pink as he realized the attention they were receiving.

"What do you mean, 'don't'?"

Jean's hand was reaching out again.

Before Armin even had the chance to speak, there was a loud voice breaking through the sea of hushed conversation.

"He said don't," the stranger's voice slurred, "or is your hearing as bad as your looks?"

Jean's hand pulled away and slowly fell by his side. His fingers were curled into a tight fist. "I heard him."

There were heavy, sluggish footsteps behind Armin. The smell of alcohol became much stronger as the stranger neared. 

"Then don't fucking touch him."

 

Armin saw Jean's calm facade break. He saw every ounce of self-restraint he had shard into a million dangerous pieces.

Armin saw the fiery, unrestrained Jean from college. The Jean he spent the better parts of his nights bandaging and checking for concussions.

This was the Jean that was self-destructive.

This Jean was unapologetically frightening.

He knew he had to leave. He'd never been a victim of Jean's anger, but he knew what could happen to innocent bystanders in his wake. He could handle everything about Jean so easily; everything but his temper.

Armin made a break for the door and didn't stop, even when he heard a glass bottle shatter and a crowd go wild. 

 

He found himself sitting out in the drizzling rain for a long while, staring at a nearby bus stop overhanging but finding no motivation to relocate under it.

When the rain became cold and the wind became violent, though, Armin took his cell phone between trembling fingers. It was only then he realized he'd left his glasses back in the bar, so clear vision was a thing of the past.

After long, torturous minutes of squinting at his phone, which he held approximately three centimeters from the tip of his nose, Armin was finally able to find the contact number for a taxi cab service he and Jean had used in the younger days. He had no idea if they were still a functioning business.

God, he hoped they were.

After five painful, anxiety ridden ring tones, a female voice greeted him. Enthusiasm practically poured through the line. "Wings of Freedom Cab Service, this is Hanji speaking! Are you needing us on this wonderful night? Have you seen the sky tonight? It's incredible. You know, storms like this are created when-"

"Cut the science shit, four-eyes," a particularly angry man said somewhere in the distance on the line.

There was a disappointed sigh. Armin cut it short.

"I have seen the sky," he tried to seem pleasant, but that was much harder than it would've been ordinarily, "actually," he sighed, "I'm stuck under that sky right now. And it's raining."

Their conversation was short. Hanji only laughed and assured Armin that she had the perfect driver to pick him up before hanging up with a suspicious cackle.

Armin was only left to hope for the best.

He prayed on every rain drop falling from the heavens that the night would turn around and something would go right.

He was stupid for even trying.

 

He'd hoped for the best, and of course, he received the furthest possible thing from it.

The short scowling man in the front seat of the taxi could barely see over the steering wheel when he pulled alongside the curb directly in front of the bar and ushered Armin in with a half-assed flap of the wrist. 

Armin, seated a considerable distance away from said bar, could only sigh, stand, and walk through the rain which now poured in sheets.

Once he'd slung the car door open, he was able to get a good look at the rest of the driver as well as the medical mask which covered his nose and mouth.

The night only got impossibly stranger.

 

"I can't get sick, kid, close the goddamn door already."

"Oh, I- I'm sorry," Armin slid into the back seat with caution before slamming the door closed.

When the cabbie, 'Levi' his placard read, didn't ask for any kind of direction, Armin pinched the bridge of his nose, watching the rate meter climb. "Just take me far away, please. Just far, far away."

Levi looked Armin over with a bored expression before he shrugged. "Whatever, I get paid by the mile anyway." As his hand wrapped around the gear shift, the back door flung open.

Both men jumped a mile high in surprise.

Armin watched as another man climbed into the cab and recognized him instantly, both by sight and smell. There was glass in his hair and embedded in his bloodied cheeks. His lip was busted and his skin colored entirely in angry reds and purples. He smelled like strong liquor. The miserable man from the bar. The one who'd confronted Jean.

He could feel his eyes widen.

" _Oi_ -" the cab driver took hold of the situation immediately, "this car is not for you get you ass out before I-"

"No," Armin stopped him with a stern look, rubbing a hand over his own mouth, "give me one second."

The dark-haired angry man faltered for only a second before settling back into his apathetic expression. "You're being charged for this."

"I'm aware," Armin spat before turning his attention to the man who sat by his side. "Shit," he whispered past barely parted lips. He knew he couldn't leave him out in the cold, and Armin had nothing waiting on him anyway, so he asked, "where do you live? I'll take you home."

The tanned man dabbed at a nasty wound at the corner of his lips with the tip of his tongue. He seemed oblivious to the question. When Armin opened his mouth to ask again, the man held up a hand to stop him.

"I'm drunk, not deaf," he said, immediately followed by a hiccup and his address.

Armin nodded and looked at the cabbie through his rear view mirror.

"Go there, please."

There was no verbal response; Armin only received an eye roll and a shrug.

 

All men were silent as the dead during the ride aside from the times when the driver would study the stranger's bloodied flesh and click his tongue in disapproval. Armin pretended he didn't notice how rude their driver was. Instead, he settled on intently studying the man from the corner of his eye until

Levi slammed his brakes abruptly causing all three to lurch forward. The drunken brunette hit the passengers seat hard and fall back breathlessly.

"We're here," He said, arms crossed securely over his small chest.

Armin threw three rolled twenties into the passenger's seat, biting back the urge to give the driver a piece of his mind while he half-dragged the stranger out of the car. With much grunting and determination, Armin finally managed to stand him upright, allowing the cabbie to leave without a single look back.

 _Good_ _riddance_ , Armin thought as the drunken man directed him towards the long stretch of apartment building with stumbling, clumsy footsteps. 

The man leaned heavily on him and his sour breath made Armin slightly queezy as they struggled up the stairs of the apartment complex and into the correct home. Once inside, Armin hurriedly pushed the man into the sitting room just behind the front door.

"Sit down," he instructed. 

Though his reaction time was slow, the man did listen, taking a seat on an ugly cloth love-seat. Armin removed his stained work shirt, leaving him in a thin undershirt, and followed suit, taking his place beside the bleeding man.

With practiced, steady hands, Armin reached out and plucked one of the larger chunks of glass from his shaggy brown locks.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Armin muttered, tearing the shirt into ribbons with the aid of the broken glass.

"And you don't have to do this," there was a slight smile on the stranger's full lips. Blood stained teeth shown past his parted, busted lips.

Armin shook his head, "if you could see yourself right now, you'd realize that I really do. Do you have tweezers?"

 

Armin worked diligently on removing the glass from the battered man's face. They talked quietly between pained hisses and curses followed by sincere apologies. He didn't learn much about the man in their limited conversation, but he did figure out his name was Eren Jaeger, and that was good enough.

"You should really learn to mind your own business," Armin spoke with is eyes downcast, working on tying a strip of his shirt around Eren's openly oozing forearm. The gore hardly bothered him.

"I've never been good at that," Eren admitted, "if I see something I don't like, I stop it. That's that."

Armin gazed at his face through thick blonde eyelashes. "Don't do that, then," he laughed.

"It has its perks."

"You could've gotten really hurt. What if you died?"

There was a brief pause as Eren studied the darkness of the apartment aimlessly.

"Like I said," he muttered, "it has its perks."

Armin felt the mood shift into a darker shade of grey. "Neither of those are perks..."

"They would be if they led her back to me," Eren leaned back on the love seat. The pale light from a nearby streetlamp caught his silhouette perfectly, showcasing his tousled hair and hard angular bone structure.

Armin felt as though he stared for just a heartbeat too long.

Guilt settled in his stomach when he had to force his eyes away.

 

"How about some television?" Eren asked, finally breaking the tense silence as Armin wandered into the kitchen to dump the glass he'd extracted from the injuries into the trash can.

"I- I really shouldn't. I have to go back," he replied distantly.

"Back where?" Eren asked, craning his neck to watch as Armin made his way back into the living room. "Back to horse face?"

His tone was casual but there was a sense of malice and undeniable hatred lurking behind the words. 

"Back to Jean, yes, I'm- he's- well, we're living together and all. He'll worry."

"You say it like it's a bad thing. He deserves a little stress," Eren commented with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "Wouldn't you say?"

"He didn't- I shouldn't," Armin said weakly.

"Just one episode of Top Gear?" Eren nodded to the illuminated television set. "How about it? This one's a good episode. You'll love it."

Armin offered a skeptical look which he hoped Eren could see through the darkness. "And how do you know I'll love it?"

Eren shrugged, "I'm just throwing shots in the dark and wishing on raindrops."

"Compelling argument," Armin wadded the remains of his shirt between his fists, he shifted his weight between his feet, eyes falling on Eren, then the front door, and then back again.

"I can even make popcorn," Eren offered, "as a thank you present for you know, not letting me bleed out and all that."

 

Armin caved in an instant. 

Saying " no" had never been an easy task. 

"One episode," he said. His tone was a warning.

Despite the mental war that waged in his mind, Armin folded his legs beneath himself and curled into his original spot. 

His vigilante hero, who sported make-shift bandages as though they were prizes, smiled at him.

"Just one," Eren agreed, throwing his legs across the arm of the love seat and laying across Armin's lap with no regard as to how personal space worked.

Armin wanted to hate himself for not pushing him away, but he loved the attention. He loved the feeling of being acknowledged, so he let him stay wordlessly.

 

Just after the first commercial break, once the clock had passed midnight and a new day was dawning, both men fell asleep. Eren's head rested in Armin's lap, and Armin's fingers had subconsciously tangled themselves in Eren's hair.


	2. Chapter 2

Armin was surprised awake by an obnoxious ringing coming from his pants pocket. His dazed and hazy mindset cleared in an instant when he recognized the ringtone to be Jean's. 

Carefully, but with haste, Armin clawed the screaming device out of his pocket and pressed it firmly against his cheek, balancing it between his shoulder and jaw.

"Hello?" his voice was groggy, still clinging to sleep.

Jean hesitated. "Armin?"

He sounded so tired and pained; probably the aftermath of a killer hangover and a restless night. Armin almost felt bad for sleeping so well the night before in a stranger's home. It was only then that he noticed his fingers still fondling the other man's hair.

Suddenly, those mussed strands of hair burned like fire, and Armin jerked his hands back violently.

Eren grumbled something incoherent before falling back into a peaceful sleep, face buried in Armin's thighs.

Armin felt sick. 

"Yes, Jean?"

"Where have you been?" He didn't sound angry, and Armin rejoiced in that. He did, however, seem to be hurting. 

Armin could imagine Jean pacing the halls of their small home as he always did when he was nervous; casting gazes out every window expecting to see him strolling up the drive. He never showed up though. He was a disappointment.

Blue eyes fell on Eren's relaxed resting face as his mind raced for an answer to Jean's simple question. 

 _Oh, you remember that guy you beat the hell out of last night? The one who insulted you and called you out in front of a bar full of people? Yeah, I stayed with him._ For some reason, he felt Jean wouldn't be happy with that response. 

"Krista's," he replied too quickly. It wasn't hard to deduce that it was a blatant lie just by the tone of his voice, but Jean seemed too distracted to even notice. "My cousin. Krista. She let me stay at her place for the night," he explained further, trying to calm his voice. He basically vibrated with nervous energy as he waited for Jean to speak.

"Oh. Alright. How's she?"

It wasn't like Jean to initiate small talk. Immediately, Armin knew he should be concerned. 

"Yeah, she's good. We, uh, we didn't get to talk much, but she's doing okay."

There was a long pause. For a moment, Armin thought he'd dropped the call.

"Jean?" Armin questioned.

"You'll be home tonight, right?"

It didn't sound like a question to Armin. 

The early morning light that illuminated Eren's tan walls made the entire apartment feel warm. He dug his toes into the shag carpeting beneath his feet; it was so nice compared to the cold wooden floors back home.

"Right?" Jean repeated.

"Yeah, yeah of course. I want to come home," Armin wished he could have meant it. But, of all the lies he'd given in their short conversation, he had the hardest time telling that one. Every part of his mind scolded him when Jean breathed a long sigh of, what he assumed to be, relief.

"Good, great. I'll see you at home, alright? 7 on the dot, you can count on it," Jean paused and something shuffled in the background of the call. "You can count on me."

Armin paused, his fingers hovered just above the soft flesh of Eren's cheek where he sported a light smear of dried blood. Armin hadn't seen how gentle and childlike Eren looked until that very moment. 

His hand fell limply back to his side, thumping lightly against the couch when it made contact with the dated, patterned cloth. 

"Right," he breathed deeply and ended the call before he could say anything he knew he'd regret.

 

Armin handled Eren like he would an infant as he tried to move out from underneath him. His soft snores and rise and fall of his chest were almost therapeutic. He could get used to Eren's silent sleep compared to Jean's loud snoring and nonstop tossing.

The thought startled Armin and motivated him to move quicker, removing Eren from his lap and gathering his shoes from the floor in relative silence. He needed to be far away.

As he moved through the apartment, on his way to the front door, a few pictures caught his eye. Backpedaling, Armin reached out and took a frame from the nearest bookshelf.

There was a familiar face staring back at him, though it lacked a few scars, tired, dark rimmed eyes, and the dark stubble. A younger Eren stood on the coast, arms outstretched as a plume of seagulls erupted behind him. He could almost hear the squawking madness and the hearty laughter that Eren must have been emitting. He seemed so happy. 

Armin looked back to the love seat and frowned at the scowl stained on his darkened face.  _What happened?_

He placed the photo back in its rightful place and moved on to the next, a face shot of two people. He recognized Eren immediately, he looked more similar to his current state, but, the female whose head Eren's chin rested on was a new face entirely. 

As he stepped back, Armin realized that photos of Eren and the beautiful mystery girl littered both walls and table top.

"Oh," Armin whispered.

He didn't know why, but he felt his heart sink into his gut and his lungs restricted.

Eren's words from the previous night came back to him, completely unwelcome.

"If they led her back to me," Armin muttered beneath his breath. He traced the outlines of the girl's face with gentle fingertips. Instantly, his mind reverted back to the sketches Jean had given him, and he all but threw the photo back in the general direction of where he'd picked it up.

It clattered violently among the photos and clutter there. 

Behind him, in the chaos of the din, Eren stirred awake.

There was a soft moan as Eren stretched his arms high above his head. Armin pretended he didn't hear it though he felt the blood pounding in his ears. 

"Good morning," he combed his fingers haphazardly through his mop of brown hair. Because he hadn't washed his hair the night before, the alcohol had made it stick out wildly.

His loose shirt slipped over his shoulder as he sat up.

"I'm sorry," Armin said quickly, "I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to wake you."

Eren, mind foggy, raised an eyebrow. "Don't worry about it, man, it's cool. I'm sorry I kept you for more than one episode."

Armin found himself unwillingly grinning.  He knotted his hands together and rocked back on his heels. "Apology accepted. I'll just be going then?" His thumb pointed in the direction of the door.

Shrugging, Eren stood and stumbled into the kitchen, heavy on his feet. "Or you can stay, and I'll make coffee."

"I have to go to work," Armin countered, looking down at the stained white undershirt he wore.

Eren glanced at him briefly and didn't miss a single beat. "You can wear something of mine." He looked past the breakfast bar as he poured coffee grounds into a new filter. "I mean if that's not too gay for you or whatever."

Armin openly laughed at that. "I feel like I probably passed the point of 'too gay' a long time ago."

"Well then let me go get you something," Eren brushed past Armin and disappeared down a small hallway.

Because he lacked any other options, Armin sat at the breakfast bar and waited. 

"Eh," Eren reappeared, toting armfuls of button down shirts, "I'm a little taller and wider than you, but they'll do, right?"

Armin hesitated, watching as Eren dumped the clothes across the back of the couch.

"You're doing too much."

Eren gave a thin smile, "I don't wear them anyway. Go nuts. Hell, maybe even steal a few. I won't notice."

Armin nodded and dug through the piles in quiet gratitude.

He refused to acknowledge the happy butterflies that swarmed his stomach.

 

"So, work, huh?" Eren asked, casually sliding a travel mug of steaming liquid across the counter.

Armin hummed. "I work for the newspaper."

Eren clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Sounds like the definition of hell to me."

"You have a vendetta against newspapers?" Armin cast his gaze up at Eren who leaned against the counter, studying him with wide eyed fascination as if everything he said was golden. It made Armin shrink into himself self consciously. 

"No," Eren chuckled, "I have a hard time reading. A really hard time. As in, I had to have someone read SAT questions to me because I was too stupid to do it on my own?"

"That hardly makes you stupid. Don't say that. I can always help you, you know, when you need it," Armin smiled over the rim of his cup. 

Somewhere in the living room, a grandfather clock signaled the time to be exactly 8 in the morning. "Crap," Armin exclaimed, pushing himself onto his feet, "I really have to go now, really." 

Armin rushed the door, coffee in one hand, shoes in the other.

"I can drive you?" Eren offered, rounding the counter to exit the kitchen.

"No! No, some- it's okay" 

 _Someone might see you,_  he'd almost said. His mouth felt dry.

"I'll just catch the bus. Thanks, though!"

He raced out the door and breathed in the muggy coastal air in an attempt to clear his head. It failed, but that didn't stop him from drinking in the fresh air like it was a scarce drug and he'd found his final fix.

 

His work day passed slowly, mostly consisting of thoughts of Eren in his lap, Eren making him coffee, the scent of Eren in the shirt he wore.

Admittedly, he smelled nice when he wasn't sweating booze. 

But, with every nice thought of the new man, images of Jean and the pretty Asian girl in all the photos lay in the aftermath. He was weak, and his morals were weaker still.

Once his shift ended, the countdown to disappointment began.

 

The wait for 7 o'clock was a slow and agonizing one.

He sat in the dark for most of the wait, staring at the time on his phone and then alternating to the wall clock above the fireplace before looking at his wristwatch and repeating.

He had little faith that this whole date night with Jean would work out. He'd barred his feelings in preparation for letdown.

Needless to say, he did a double take when he heard a car rolling down the gravel driveway at 6:58. His chest nearly exploded when he caught a glimpse of Jean's headlights through the living room window.

No time was wasted when he flew out the door and raced to the idling car.

"Jean!" he screeched, wrapping his arms around the man's neck securely. He dangled there before strong arms wrapped around the small of his back.

"Armin," Jean greeted him with a smile, nose buried in the crook of his neck. 

When Armin pulled away, all smiles, Jean's eyes grazed down his body and then back to his face. He looked confused. 

"Is that a new shirt?" he asked, suit jacket thrown over his right arm. He slammed his car door shut with the heel of his shoe.

"Oh-I- well" he looked down to Eren's shirt helplessly, hoping it would provide some sort of answer.

It didn't.

"Krista's ex left some stuff at her place. I got lucky that it fit."  The laugh Armin gave was nervous at best.

Jean pressed his lips together until they formed a thin, white line. "She's a lesbian isn't she?"

"Yeah," Armin admitted, eyes cast downward, "I guess it was a very distant ex."

"Well, then it must be your lucky day, huh?" Jean asked, ruffling his hair as he passed.

Armin smiled, but didn't miss the change in the other man's expression. He seemed unsure and distrustful, and Armin felt his stomach stir uneasily as he followed his partner inside.

 

Their night progressed in a painfully uneventful way when the thrill of seeing one another faded away. Armin discovered that the more time they spent together, the less they had to talk about and the more they touched to make up for the looming silence.

This is what their relationship had simmered down to. Sex to fill the space where they had no words to say. Sex to end fights. Sex to say I'm sorry. Meaningless sex that built into something of a routine. A job.

The spark that had once been there died long ago. Now sex happened because it required no words or thoughts, or, most importantly, feelings.

The only good that came out of it was being stripped out of Eren's shirt. In some way, Jean's hands running along his back and chest felt like some sort of cleansing.

Quietly, in the catacombs of his overworked mind, Armin apologize a million times over to the pretty girl in the pictures.

He'd done nothing with Eren; he knew he had no real reason to fight the shit storm of guilt he'd conjured up. Armin had dabbed some blood off of Eren's skin because his boyfriend had been the one to break the skin. They'd watched television together and slept uncomfortably smashed against one another, but somehow that had felt more intimate and affectionate than anything he and Jean could ever attempt.

With Jean, he just felt dirty. 

Shamefully, as Jean thrust into him, he closed his eyes and imagined Eren's sleeping figure.

He imagined peace, and tolerated the careless rutting into the end of his less-than-satisfying orgasm.

 

As soon as Jean pulled away, Armin swiveled off the side of their bed. "I'm taking a shower, alright?"

"Want me to join you?" Jean asked, voice muffled by his pillow. There was a slick sheen on his forehead, and his back rose and fell in uneven heaves.

"Oh- no, that's alright," he gave a tight lipped smile, "you're tired, and I'll be no fun. Go to sleep."

Jean shrugged, "just for you," he muttered with his eyes closed.

Armin bowed his head and left the room with his arms crossed around over his exposed torso.

When he stepped into the steady stream of cold water, he couldn't help but wonder what Eren was up to. He hoped he was having a good night. 

Mostly, he only hoped Eren was smiling. 

 

Armin opted to sleep on the couch that night. The smell of sex in the air of their bedroom made him feel sick, and he wanted no part of that. He could hear Jean's bearlike snores filling the home from their open bedroom door. It was fine, though. Armin didn't feel like he was going to sleep any time soon anyway.

He sat and stared at the empty walls of their small place into the early morning, wondering why he and Jean didn't have happy pictures of themselves scattered all about. He didn't even remember that last time they'd taken a photo together that wasn't candid. Even in those, neither of them were smiling. 

Armin buried his face deep into the couch cushions and stifled the urge to scream. He laid just like that until heard their bed creaking, immediately followed by light footsteps leading into the living room. He bolted into a seated position and tried to go for a casual look by flipping through one of his old novels from college which he left sitting on the coffee table for good reading material.

When Jean appeared, his hair was a disaster. His sleeping pants hung low on his hips and a sleepy smile brightened his otherwise hard face.

"Did you ever come back to bed last night?" Jean questioned, rummaging through a few kitchen cabinets.

"Yeah," Armin lied. It was becoming so easy to do.

It was much easier when Jean believed it without a hitch.

"Oh," he said past that stupidily attractive smile. Armin felt like he'd been punched in the gut every time he caught a glimpse of it. "I must've fallen asleep on you then, huh?"

Armin gave a hollow sounding laugh. "It's can't be helped. You're an old man now, Jean Kirschtein."

Jean hummed and made his way over to where Armin sat clutching the old novel in his lap. His knuckles had began to turn white, and he had to force himself not to pull away when Jean placed a soft kiss on the top of his head.

 

Weeks passed with the same routine, Jean would come home on time, they would offer meaningless small talk just to humor one another, and then they'd act like horny teenagers until they fell asleep in a tangle of limbs. The sounds of heavy breathing was the only thing there to lull them to sleep.

They never talked afterwards. The hardly looked at one another.

In the dead of night, not even the stars shined down on their shame.

 

It was a Thursday, Armin remembered, when he'd finally had enough of staying at home overnight. Talking to Jean was emotionally exhausting and being around him for more than 10 minutes made him want to crawl out of his skin.

It had been two months since he'd even seen the Jaeger man, but he still lingered in the dark parts of Armin's mind like the ghost of past thoughts.

There was a hurricane sweeping through Trost and its surrounding areas that night, and it provided the perfect opportunity for Armin to stay at work through the night.

He just needed one night of freedom. One night. And it was only one phone call away. 

As he shuffled through his too-cluttered desk drawers on the hunt for his work phone, Armin stumbled upon the travel mug Eren had lent him ages ago.

Armin examined it thoroughly, weak smile plastered on his tired face, before he shoved the cup into the very back of the drawer and slammed it shut, deciding he'd much rather use the break room phone anyway.

Jean answered after the third ring with a chipper 'hello'.

"Hi, Jean, it's me," Armin gripped the phone tightly. His lips were nearly pressed against the microphone of the phone.

"I know, I recognized the number."

There was a undeniable smile in his voice. There was another sucker punch in the gut for Armin.

"I have to stay at work tonight," Armin twirled the ancient phone's spiral cord around a thin finger.

"You do?"

"Yeah, it's just because of the storm. We're cranking out a few new articles about it starting right now," Armin glanced at his wrist watch: 6:00 pm, "and someone has to stay around and edit."

"And you're the only one who can do it?"

Armin pretended not to notice how edgy Jean sounded.

"'Fraid so, everyone else called out because of weather."

"Well," Jean sighed, "it's good that you're so dedicated to your work, I suppose."

Armin worked his lower lip between his teeth painfully, "I knew you'd understand."

"I don't get much of a choice."

Jean ended the call there.

 

Armin tried to stay at work as long as possible. There were a million and one things he could have been doing, but, he had no motivation to do anything aside from wallow in the darkness of the office and drown in self pity.  He did that well. 

By the time 8 pm rolled around, he was completely alone. Even their boss Shadis had left, leaving him to his own devices. More than once he found himself eyeing the drawer that held Eren's cup.

"I really should return it," Armin said, hand slipping down to the drawer's handle. "It couldn't hurt just to see him and give this back, could it? Maybe he won't even be around." He sighed and dug the cup up, spinning it around his desk and running his fingers over it. "Fresh air couldn't hurt anyway, could it?" 

Reasoning himself out of the office was difficult. He wanted so badly to convince himself that he didn't want to see Eren, but even he wasn't capable of lies that outlandish. He didn't want to think about how happy he would be if he saw that smiling face with the rounded cheeks and goofy crooked smile. He wondered was it would be like to have the chance  to stay just one more night in that little apartment just outside of town. He wondered if maybe that would kill the idealized fantasies he'd created over this perfect stranger. Armin was well aware that his infatuation was just that, an infatuation, but that didn't make his feelings any less real. 

He hardly knew the man, but he did know what happiness felt like.

It felt like sleeping on a too-small love seat with a large man-child curled into his lap. It felt like Eren offering up half of his wardrobe just so Armin could stay a few minutes to drink bad coffee he'd made himself. It felt like someone caring enough to stand up against a bully, in this case Jean, despite not knowing one another.

Happiness felt like the sunshine that exploded in his chest every time he saw that shirt hanging in his closet.

It still smelled like him.

 

He hardly knew Eren. He knew it was so wrong of him to want to go out and look for him so badly. He had no reason to want to see him again, but that wasn't enough to stop him. 

Jean was trying to be a better boyfriend, but Armin felt so far gone that it no longer mattered.

After long minutes of slow deliberation, Armin stood, slipped his thin jacket over his arms, and raced into the pounding storm, coffee mug in tow. 

 

Rain fell in opaque sheets, coating windows in a silver sheen, and the wind was enough to make walking in a straight line a challenge. More than a couple times, as Armin trekked to the bar, he'd nearly been blown over. Still, he marched on, being sure the keep the mug tucked under his jacket as a constant reminder as to why he was putting himself through this. 

The bar didn't smell quite as bad as he remembered when he stepped inside. New faces sat all around the bar and in the booth where he and Jean had completely broken down. Hesitantly, he looked to the spot where Eren had been sitting all those nights ago. He wasn't there.

Armin huffed and shook his head, realizing how stupid it had been for him to assume that Eren carried on the same lifestyle as he had two months before.

Eren deserved better than a low key bar on the bad side of the boardwalk. He'd known that, yet, for some reason, Armin hoped he'd still find him there, face down in his bitter drink.

He wasn't though, and no amount of hoping would change that. 

He turned to leave quickly, but a familiar voice from the back of the building caught his attention before he was fully out the door.

 

"Hey, blondie!" the voice was the same. The face behind the voice was not. The nickname was also very new.

Eren sauntered over from the men's restroom, drying his hands with a large wad of paper towels.

His face was thinner, and by the looks of how tight his shirt had become, he'd been spending more time working out and less time drinking whiskey by the bottle. His hair was longer now and reached down his neck, nearing his shoulders.

Those green eyes and crooked smile were exactly the same though.

He looked nice when he wasn't bruised, bleeding, and coated in shards of glass.

 

Armin found that he couldn't speak. He was only capable of gawking like the true embarrassment he'd always known he was. In that single moment, he forgot everything that had ever mattered to him. Even his name was lost somewhere in the mass chaos Eren had sparked in the forefront of his mind.  

Eren's smile faltered. "Don't remember me?" The question was good-natured and sounded light to the ears, but his facial expression was something different entirely.

 _I only think about you every time I breathe,_ Armin thought,  _unfortunately, I can't forget you._

"Of course I do!" Armin laughed and removed the cup from inside is jacket. "I didn't know you still came here, but I wanted to give you this."

Eren reached out and shook his head. "You know where I live, you could've just dropped it off, you know."

"Yeah, I guess, I'd hate to intrude though."

"You came here just to find me then?" His eyebrows twitched and Armin's stomach knotted nervously. 

He hated bars, he never drank, didn't smoke, and didn't understand any sports. He had no reason to be there. He'd only wanted to see Eren.

Embarrassing.

"I just didn't want to steal from you," Armin shrugged.

"Right. I appreciate it then. How about you come sit with us?" Eren jerked his head towards a table near the restrooms.

There were two men, one tall and tanned, his shirt clung to his sweat, and the other was slightly shorter with a more muscular bulk. His blonde hair seemed wet as well, and he was much louder than the rest of the table combined. There was one other person there. A smaller woman with jet black hair that reached her chin. Apathetic grey eyes met his. He stumbled back on unsteady feet.

The girl. He'd forgotten about the girl. The happy swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach stopped dead and simmered uncomfortably in the acid there.

"Uh- I- no. No, I think I've done enough," Armin stammered.

Eren wadded the towels in his hands into a tight ball. The muscles in his arms and hands flexed with each movement. Armin jerked his eyes away hastily. 

"Done enough? I haven't seen you in forever, though. How about just one drink, my treat?"

Armin shook his head, "I can't. I'm sorry. I have to go. Jean's probably waiting."

"You're still with him," Eren's voice deadpanned. Disappointment seemed to be laced through the words, but then again that could have just been Armin's imagination running wild.

 _Yes, and now you're back with her. I think we're even_ , Armin thought.

"Yeah, he's doing better than he was before."

There was a long awkward lull in the conversation as Eren looked at Armin directly in the eye. 

"He better keep doing better, then. For your sake."

Armin couldn't help but wonder if Eren was this oddly protective over everyone he met.

"I'll tell him you said so."

 

Armin excused himself quickly, slipping out the front door and into the pounding rain. It was cold and violent, stinging when it hit his skin. Still, he kept walking in the direction of his office, avoiding the idling bus parked beside the curb.

"Hey!" There was a shout from behind him. The unforgiving weather had washed away the sharp tone and had smeared the word through the air, but Armin still heard it. He stopped.

Before he could look back, he heard the sopping wet sound of shoes running through puddles, and was tugged back around by a hand clamped to his shoulder. When he turned, he was surprised to see exactly how much taller Eren was compared to himself.

"Hey," Eren muttered softly, out of breath.

"Hey?"

"I was wondering if maybe you could help me with something," Eren said, pulling his hand away after touching Armin for just a second too long. 

"Maybe," Armin offered. He had no intention of doing anything that would bring him closer to Eren, but he figured he may has well seem nice.

"I need help with some reading, like you offered. Maybe you can come by my place on Saturday. It won't take long. I just really need... I could use a lot of help and no mockery."

Armin squinted up at him through the rain, trying to find the joke in his facial expression. There was nothing but open honesty and a tint of hope. Eren was an open book of unfiltered emotions. He was filled with such wonder and trust and bravery. 

There, on that sidewalk in the pouring rain, a weak smile painting his lips, Armin knew he had never seen anyone look anymore beautiful.

He hadn't had a crush on anyone in years, and it was suddenly obvious to him why he hadn't missed them.

"What time?" Armin finally asked.

Eren's calm expression broke into a cheerful smile and Armin found himself crushed against his broad chest in a painful hug.

Armin giggled and hid his face in Eren's chest, hoping he didn't look as flustered as he felt.

He buzzed with the contact.

"Any time! I get up early and go to bed late. Whenever it's convenient for you is best for me."

Armin wanted to drink in the smile Eren currently wore. He wanted to capture it in a bottle and keep it always, because when he smiled, it was like the sun rising after a long storm, its rays filtering through lingering water droplets and exploding into vibrant rainbows.

That smile was the definition of happiness. Armin couldn't barely contain his own grin knowing he'd caused such a beautiful natural wonder.

When Jean smiled, and those smiles were rare, Armin had never felt this ecstatic about it. 

Eren was a work of art just by being himself.

"How about noon?" Armin offered.

"Yeah! I'll make lunch," Eren clapped him on the back and nearly sent him hurdling into a puddle.

Armin stumbled and barely caught himself, laughing despite the sting of where he'd been hit.

"Make it a five star feast, and I'll be there."

Eren nodded and gave a salute where he stood. "I wouldn't make anything less."

"I'm counting on it."

"You can always count on me," Eren's hair clung to the sides of his face and his clothes where practically a second skin; water dripped from his eyelashes and past the fullness of his lips.

Never had he wanted to kiss anyone more in his entire life.

 

He said his goodbyes, unable to keep from grinning and as he turned in the direction of the publishing house once more, his phone rang. 

It was Jean's ringtone.

All the life drained from him. Reality had never hurt so badly, and answering a phone call had never been more daunting. 

He sighed, preparing himself for war.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT CC:
> 
> (I changed the tags this time as there is minor domestic violence and I really want people to be aware of that.)
> 
> ENJOY.

Armin was no stranger to awkward phone calls. He'd made plenty of them at work when requesting interviews and especially when dismissing story pitches, those were always like bad break ups, but nothing, not a single conversation, had made Armin feel more uncomfortable than his back and forth with Jean.

 

Really, the conversation was rough from the start when Armin awkwardly stumbled over a simple hello. 

Jean didn't seem to notice the stuttering though as he was, for some reason, intently focused on the background noise. 

"Armin?" he asked, "are you outside?"

Armin's heart stopped. It stopped completely, just for a second, but that single second felt like it extended into many painful years. Suddenly, he was hyper aware of where he was and who he was around. He stopped walking entirely.

The unforgiving rain that pelted his skin became the least of his worries.

He was bombarded by an onslaught of questions prompted by his rising anxiety. Did Jean know where he was? Did he witness the scene with Eren? Had he caught onto the incessant lying?

"Are you?" Armin countered.

He spun around on the wet concrete, surveying every inch of empty space around him. There wasn't a single soul to be seen, animals or otherwise. Eren had retreated into the cover of the bustling bar, and the bus that had waited by the curb was long gone. Not even stray seagulls entered his line of vision.

That only eased his conscious slightly.

"No? Should I be?" Jean was beginning to sound more and more worried.

"Oh, well, no, you shouldn't be, I just wanted a break. I needed air," the reply was shaky and diffident. It practically screamed 'LIAR'. Armin cursed himself.

Nervously, he continued on his walk.

"You couldn't just open a window or something?" Jean gave something that could pass as a laugh, "your immediate go-to plan was to stand out in the middle of an oncoming hurricane?"

Just as Armin opened his mouth, a massive gust of wind shoved him, less-than-gracefully, into a puddle that left him wading in ankle deep, murky water. In the back of his mind, he considered that maybe this was just God's way of telling him to stop being an asshole to the man he'd sworn his love to a million times over.

Or, some cynical part of his brain offered, maybe he just wasn't meant to have good luck.

Defiantly, he stood up straight and trudged out of the small pond with a new sense of determination to return to the indoors. 

"I didn't think of the window thing," Armin tried for a casual tone past chattering teeth.

"Tch," Jean clicked his tongue. Armin could see his look of disapproval from miles away. "Anyway, I was calling to ask if you wanted anything for dinner. Anything you want so long as it's off the dollar menu."

"As appealing as that sounds, I think I'll have to pass. I'm not hungry," he replied lightly. His stomach was still full of flittering butterflies that refused to settle. He'd actually never been less hungry in his life. 

It then dawned on him that this was the first honest statement he'd said to Jean in weeks. As the realization settled in, his happiness soured until it was sickening.

"Not even if I let you get a whole combo?"

"No, that's okay. Thanks, Jean."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

 

Finally, his office came into sight. Armin was not a man who ran regularly, but the sprint he made to the front door should have landed him some spot in an Olympic race. Once inside, he closed the door with an audible click and toed his wet shoes off beside the door frame.

His entire being was shivering uncontrollably as he wandered through the office's maze of mountains of paperwork and cluttered cubicles, overflowing with office supplies, past newspapers, and rough drafts for new editions. The singular window along the back wall of the office space offered little help in guiding his path. 

"So how has work been?" Jean asked with mild interest. His voice sounded a million miles away.

Armin was instantly pulled back to the night he'd first met Eren Jaeger. It had been he and Jean walking in the rain as Armin desparately tried to drag any kind of conversation out of his unresponsive partner. He'd asked that same exact question.

He knew the desperation Jean was feeling all too well.

The way the tables had turned made him anxious. He could barely tolerate himself.

Guilt pumped freely through his veins and constricted his chest with a disheartening squeeze.

He became distracted and stopped focusing on navigating around office place obstacles, causing him to stub his toe and crash violently into the wall his hand was fruitlessly groping in search of a light switch.

At least that ended his reflective melodrama. 

"Shit," he muttered, leaning heavily against the wall to check his injured foot. Once he was sure nothing was broken, he hobbled to his desk, defeated by a stray box of papers destined for the shredder the following day. It took all he had not to toss them out of a window.

He didn't need a light anyway.

"That bad, huh?" There was a smile in his voice. At least Jean was amused. 

"It was okay for a while," Armin said without offering any kind of further explanation.

"You seem stressed," Jean commented uselessly.

"More than you know," Armin returned, sinking into his well worn office chair. The leather was ripping in its old age. Grungy yellow foam was beginning to peak through the torn seams. 

Still, Armin refused to get rid of it.

It seemed he had a thing for clinging to things of the past with no real purpose aside from obligation. 

 

"Are you alone?" Jean eventually asked after an extensive silence.

It had seemed like an innocent enough question, but Armin quickly realized he'd made a huge mistake in saying yes.

"Good," Jean began, "because I want you to know how badly I want to bend you over that desk of yours and-"

"Jean-" Armin hissed sharply. "Don't even start with me."

Even when they weren't together their inability to communicate _still_ led to sex.

_Incredible._

"What- But I-"

"I have to go," Armin cut him off shortly.

"Armin."

"I'm busy. I'm sorry. I hope you have a good night."

The sound of the rain pounding against the slate roof of the office was all Armin heard as he waited patiently for Jean to conjure up a response.

"Not without you here," Jean finally said.

The words were whispered under his breath, and Armin barely heard them. Still, they burned. Armin felt as though he'd been pierced through his chest a thousand times over.

This was never how things were meant to be.

"Not without you." Jean repeated.

The call ended.

 

Armin stared blindly into the all-consuming darkness until finally, mercifully, fatigue was generous enough to strip him of his consciousness. 

 

The only good part about the following day was disposing of that godforsaken box from the night before. Otherwise, it was something of a nightmare.

He'd somehow managed to fall face first into his rough wooden desk during the night and earned a nice battle wound along his right cheek where his face had met the nicely sharpened corner. His hair was a mane-like disaster without the aid of a hairbrush, and his clothes smelled soggy, like something similar to stale sea water which was pointed out multiple times throughout the day.

Armin was dismissed from work early that day because, according to Shadis, he looked like a "daffodil mid-wilt which had been run over by a platoon of foot soldiers."

He'd heard far less appealing insults come from the man's mouth, so he took it as a compliment.

Besides, it was a surprisingly accurate assessment of how he felt, anyway. Still, he argued that he should be able to stay. 

"Just until closing, sir. I really can't go home right now."

"Is it on fire?"

"What?" Armin asked, eyebrows knit together.

"Your house. Is it on fire?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir."

"Is it being bulldozed?"

Armin sighed. "No, sir."

"And is it non existent?"

"No."

"Then go home, Arlert."

It had been a losing battle from the start, still that didn't stop him from trying to fight it.

"Sir, I-"

"Hey, Armin, how about an early dinner. Sasha's treat." Connie called from the cubicle opposite of Armin's, gazing over the wall and into Armin's small domain. He was too short to reach that height on his own. He was probably standing on his desk for the third time that month, Armin reasoned. 

Sasha hummed from his right side and rolled her chair out from behind her desk. "As long as I get to eat off both your plates," she agreed. 

"Deal!" Connie said for both himself and Armin.

As he was literally dragged away from his desk, Armin swore he'd never been more grateful for two people in his entire life.

 

He'd always considered Connie and Sasha friends of his. They'd talk over coffee in the break room, buy each other gifts at holidays, and wish one another a goodnight before leaving every day at closing, but, he figured now it couldn't hurt to get to know them a little better. They had, after all, saved him from hours of uncomfortable time spent with Jean.

"Hey," Armin said once he'd wedged his way between the two car seats in the back of the couple's sedan, "I'll buy dessert if you take me far enough from home," he offered.

Apparently, he had underestimated Sasha's passion for free dessert because the woman drove through two towns before finally stopping at a small cafe on the outter limits of a small city called Stohess. Even then she asked if they were far enough away.

With a laugh, Armin assured her that this was fine.

Sasha, unsurprisingly, was the first person in the restaurant. Connie waited outside of the car as Armin fumbled with his seatbelt and ultimately fell out of the cramped back seat.

As he helped Armin onto his feet, Connie gave him a slow look from head to toe. Armin squirmed under his scrutinizing gaze. "Are you okay?" He finally asked.

"I've fallen before," Armin waved the question away, "I'll be fine."

"No," Connie insisted, "I mean are you feeling okay?"

Armin felt as though he hadn't been asked that question with sincerity in a lifetime. 

The strong demeanor he'd been trying to hold on to slowly cracked. He felt his eyes well up with tears.

"Is that a joke?"

"For once," Connie said, sitting down on the nearest curb, "not, it's not."

Armin slid down the side of the car slowly until he was sat on the pavement. He leaned against the car's tire limply, tired eyes trained on Connie's serious expression. "I feel like I've dug my own grave, Connie."

Connie nodded, "You look like you've been sleeping in it for a while, buddy."

Armin raked his fingers through his tangled mop of hair. "If only sleep was an option."

"What have you gotten yourself into?" His hazel eyes flooded with concern.

Armin broke. 

"I've become completely enthralled with a straight man who I've talked to maybe twice, and because of that my current relationship has turned into the definition of torture."

Despite the confession, Connie was stuck on one thing. "Whoa, you're gay?"

Armin scrunched his nose and forced a slight laugh, "I've been with the same man for five years, Connie."

His voice was rough even to his own ears causing his frown to deepen.

"Why are you so sure he's straight?" Connie asked finally, after the new information had been fully processed.

The female's stoic grey eyes rose in the back of his mind. The pictures of her which took up every empty inch of space in Eren's warm apartment weighed down on him.

"I just know." He sounded small and vulnerable.

Without warning, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. Connie's weight was comfortable and welcome. It reminded him that he wasn't left completely alone to suffer in his mess.

"Yeah, kind of like how I 'just knew' you were straight. Obviously I was wrong."

That pulled a small, almost hopeful smile out of Armin. 

It lasted a full second before his spirit was crushed once again.

"Jean," Armin whispered hoarsely.

Connie shuffled along the pavement until he sat directly in front of Armin. The legs of his dress slacks were covered in dirt and gravel. He couldn't seem to care less.

Armin studied him through bleary eyes, wincing when Connie gripped his shoulders firmly.

"Talk to me for a second. What makes this new guy so great?"

Armin could feel the other man's fingertips digging into the soft flesh of his back. He heaved out a shaking breath. Where would he even begin?

"Well," he worked his lower lip between his teeth, "being around him is completely intoxicating. It's like... like every time I'm around him I just forget how to think. I forget how to worry and stress. Every time I even think about him, I'm clumsy and uncoordinated and a complete awkward embarrassment, but I just don't care because I'm so far gone in him.

But then, of course, comes the hangover. The part where I have to look Jean in the eye and pretend that I wasn't considering leaving him. I have to act like I'm still in love with him. It kills me because all I do is lie over, and over, and over again.

I can't leave Jean, though. Not over a stupid crush on a man who will never think of me the same way I think of him. I can't end a five year relationship over stupidity like this. I'm not a kid anymore."

"Why not?" Connie arched an eyebrow.

"Because," Armin said breathless with desperation to try and get his friend to understand, "every logical part of my entire being is telling me how bad of an idea that is."

Connie's hands slid down to his upper arms as he leaned in closely. "You tell those logical parts to shut the hell up and listen to Papa Connie for a second."

Armin nodded weakly.

"No, I mean really listen. Don't just hear what I'm saying. I need you to listen."

Connie took Armin's silent response as an invitation to continue. 

His grip tightened.

"Every good thing comes to an end eventually, Armin. Everything has a time for a beginning and a time for an ending. Five years is a hell of a long time, man, but if it's doing this to you, you gotta know where to draw the line. I know you just want to make people happy, but you can't see what you're doing to yourself. I can, and I'm worried about you. You do you, man. You make you happy, and you chase after that straight boy 'till he realizes how much he needs you and your dick if that's what makes you tick. So what if you've had a good run with this Jean dude? You drop him and you run to that person who makes you think your heart might explode out of your chest just because they looked your way. Stop with the self torture though. For real."

Armin was quiet, absorbing all the confidence and power he could out of Connie's speech.

Connie continued talking. He had no mute button it seemed. "I found Sasha. It wasn't supposed to work out, it shouldn't have, but it did against all odds. I'm all for the love at first sight bullshit. I just saw her and I knew."

Armin hummed. "It took Jean and I four months before we could even hold a conversation."

"And that wasn't a big enough red flag?"

"I guess I'm not very perceptive."

Sometimes, Armin forgot that Connie was like a wise old man under that snidely sarcastic exterior. This was a nice reminder though.

" _Hey!_ " Sasha's voice rang out across the parking lot as she reappeared in the restaurant's entrance. "Are you coming in or not? He's not getting out of the dessert thing."

Armin gave a faltering smile as Connie pulled him to his feet.

"Seriously though, dude, she's right, if you think I'll let you out of the dessert thing over this, I've got some bad news. I don't feel that bad for you."

Armin shoved Connie's side lamely as they walked to greet Sasha, and Connie returned the gesture with much more power, sending him flying across the nearly deserted lot.

For the first time that day, Armin laughed genuinely.

 

The clock read 8:06 when Armin finally returned home.

Most of the car ride had been spent with Connie and Sasha arguing over who had eaten the biggest portion while Armin waged mental war with himself over whether he could sleep outside without Jean noticing he was home. In the end, he convinced himself that that was a terrible idea.

He had managed to build up a break up speech in his head, though. He still felt the power behind Connie's tirade ringing in his ears and bouncing around his skull. He was sure of what he had to do. It was what was best for the both of them. He felt more sure about this than he'd felt in a while.

Except that all vanished when he flung the front door open to reveal a fully set dinner table. Food was prepared and sat out around the table in king-like proportions. Candles had melted down to their bases, cooled wax formed puddles around the holsters. In the distance, Armin could hear the faint sounds of the living room television. 

Slowly, with his heart in his throat, he moved in the direction of the noise. Armin was grateful for the arrangement of the living room furniture in that moment. Jean faced away from him on the white leather couch; he was wrapped securely in a blanket that Armin recognized immediately. He'd gotten it for Jean for his 23rd birthday. They were barely friends at the time. 

His mouth tasted sour. He stepped forward slowly. "Jean?" he whispered.

Jean must have been sleeping or very deep in thought because he made a startled sound and jumped slightly before turning his head. His eyes widened.

"Armin!"

Armin nodded and stepped around the arm of the sofa, closing the distance between them. Cautiously, he sat beside Jean as closely as he could, legs folded beneath himself.

"Armin," Jean breathed his name, "I didn't think you were coming home."

Jean's eyes were trained on him; Armin could scarcely force himself to look into that damaged gaze.

"Of course I came home. I'll always come home," it sounded like a promise that scared Armin to the core. It was too late to take the words back now.

Slowly, so slowly, Jean detangled his arms from the old blanket and cupped his hand against Armin's cheek, running his thumb over the scratch there. Armin, for the first time in agonizing months, leaned into his touch. He enjoyed feeling Jean's skin on his. Even if just for that moment in time, Armin could feel their relationship falling back into place.

Armin raised himself onto his knees shakily and swiveled his hips in order to straddle Jean's lap. With his hands placed gingerly against Jean's face, he leaned in and kissed him.

It lacked practice. It was a strange sensation because it felt new though they'd done the same thing a million times over.

Jean took the initiative to deepen the kiss with wandering hands and a curious tongue. There was almost a sense of shyness about every action they took. Hours were spent discovering one another's bodies as if it were the first time.

That night, Armin had no complaints about the sex. 

 

Saturday arrived far faster than Armin had anticipated. The sun streamed through wide open windows, waking Armin gently. He was still wrapped securely in Jean's arms from the night before.

The kiss that he placed on Jean's temple was inevitable.

Slowly, as to not wake his sleeping partner, Armin squirmed out of Jean's grasp and walked stiffly into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He felt peaceful. Everything felt so right in that moment. He was happy.

Until he remembered he'd agreed to meet with Eren that same day.

 _Oh yeah,_ he thought irritably,  _life still sucks._

Armin tried to busy his mind by cleaning the kitchen, but too often he found himself looking into the living room to be sure Jean was still sleeping before his mind would wander on to Eren. He didn't know what Eren had wanted to do that day, but he was sure it could wait.

 

Whether out of guilt, obligation, or contentment, he wasn't sure which, Armin stayed home with Jean the entire day. He pretended he didn't feel bad for ditching Eren with no warning. He forced the thought of Eren waiting for him out of his mind. He tried not to imagine Eren's look of child like trust and wonder diminishing while he waited into the hours of the night as Armin sat cuddled into Jean's side.

Though he tried not to let Eren infiltrate his thoughts, he failed.

Even when he and Jean were happy, Eren was still in the forefront of his mind.

When Armin gave a hefty sigh at the realization, Jean only squeezed him tighter.

 

Sunday passed much the same. It wasn't until Monday reared its ugly head, Armin was forced to come to terms with his decision to abandon his plans with Eren.

 

It was 2:14 when Sasha wandered into his cubicle with a dopey smile painted on her face. 

"There's a call for you on line two," she informed him.

"Okay," Armin moved in towards the phone on his desk before turning back to face her, "why are you smiling like that?"

She shrugged, "I dunno. Just sounds like a particularly cute non-straight man."

Armin frowned and snatched the phone out of its cradle.

Sasha laughed as she walked away.

 

"Trost Daily, this is Armin Arlert speaking."

"Armin?"

It was Eren. There was no mistaking that voice.

Armin remained silent out of both fear and the lack of important things to say.

"It's Eren."

He didn't need clarification. He knew.

"Oh, hey, Eren."

The way Eren's voice made his knees weak without even seeing his face concerned Armin greatly.

"What happened Saturday?" The question was simple, but the hurt on both ends of the line was evident. With every word Eren said, Armin found his heart beat faster.

"I'm really sorry," Armin stuttered more than he would like to admit, "I just got caught up with-"

"Jean. Yeah, I figured that," Eren laughed, "how about a rescheduling then?"

Armin looked around the office slowly. He was surprised to find that Sasha wasn't sitting close by and watching with wide eyed curiosity. She was probably in hiding, Armin concluded. 

"Uh," Armin rubbed his free hand over his mouth, "let me think on it."

"Oh. Yeah, okay, sure. That works. Don't forget about it. Let me give you my number in case you need to call."

Armin refused to acknowledge the excited flip his stomach did when Eren began rattling off his phone number before saying goodbye.

He practically buzzed for the rest of the day. Eren's number was a constant, warm presence in the pocket of his slacks. 

 

Armin lasted a grand total of three agonizing days before he needed Eren. Jean and Armin's newly found love for one another had died away in record time before they reverted back to their same old routine. Except somehow, impossibly, they had gotten even worse.

For two days straight, Jean had decided to work overtime. He refused all of Armin's texts. Avoided his calls. Left his emails unread. Armin had even faxed him once to no avail. 

He'd tried to talk to Connie about it, but he and Sasha had taken a mini vacation/ road trip, and had no time to even check his phone. Unless Connie was ignoring him too. 

He'd tried to clean the house, watch television, read, write, look through Jean's college sketchbooks, and surf the web just to alleviate the crushing state of loneliness Jean had left him in. He even called his mom in an attempt to find some sort of companion. 

He was so alone. He was so desperately, painfully in need of a friend.

Eren was his last resort.

 

Embarrassingly, his hands were shaking as he pressed the numbers Eren had given him on his cell's dial pad. He wasn't sure what he was going to say. He wasn't even sure if Eren had given him the right number. Maybe it'd been some kind of revenge for abandoning their plans. He was just so full of coubt, worry, and distrust that he couldn't be sure of anything that wasn't unfailing disappointment. 

He was left to pace the patio behind his home before Eren's voice answered the line and Armin kind of wanted to cry with relief. 

"Let's get coffee," Armin said simply. It was almost confident.

Eren didn't hesitate in agreeing. "Meet me at my place in half an hour."

"Okay," Armin whispered past a relieved smile, "yeah, okay."

The fact that Jean had to work late that night was suddenly blessing. 

 

Armin didn't think he'd ever tried so hard to look presentable for someone. After tearing through half of his closet, he finally settled on a lose button down sweater vest combo and the most comfortable pair of jeans he owned. 

The bus ride to the stop nearest Eren's apartment complex was the most nerve wracking ten minutes of his life. He wondered if maybe Eren had reconsidered. He hoped he wasn't mad. He didn't think he could handle someone else avoiding him.

Worried thoughts wracked his mind until the very last moment when he knocked on Eren's front door, and it was pulled open within the same second. 

Eren leaned against the wooden slab and beamed at Armin with a smile that melted every single ounce of stress Armin had worked up throughout, well, his entire lifetime. 

Armin literally had to fight himself to stay in place rather than fling himself onto his friend and cling to him for dear life. 

"You ready to go?" Eren asked, dangling a set of keys from his forefinger.

"Thank you for doing this, Eren," Armin said as he turned away to descend the flight of stairs he'd just climbed. He hoped his obviously flushed face could be passed off of exertion from the exercise. 

Eren hooked his thumbs in his front pockets as he took the stairs two at a time, nearly running Armin over in the process. "Don't thank me," Eren shrugged loosely, "this is what friends do. You know? Hang out? See each other? That's how it goes."

 _Friends hanging out,_ Armin's brain shouted at him forcefully,  _not a date. Not. A. Date._

 

Unbeknownst to Armin, there was a coffee shop close to where Eren lived, nestled between boutiques and inexpensive eateries. 

"What are you getting?" Eren asked casually, bright eyes trained on the menu board which hung on the furthest wall of the cafe.

"Nothing too dramatic. Just a small decaf. I do have to sleep tonight."

Eren gave Armin a sidelong glance with a sly smirk. "I'm sure you and Jean-Boy could work off some of the caffeine."

Armin pulled a face and looked away immediately. Jean was the last person he wanted to think about. Much less talk about.

"Yikes. Got it. Go sit down then. I'll order."

"No," Armin said, "I'm ordering and paying for my own. That's how it works."

"That's how it works normally," Eren countered, "but you're with me right now, and I'm offering to pay."

"But I can-"

"Go sit down, Armin," he instructed.

Reluctantly, Armin let the argument go and slinked over to a table with was remotely to itself by a window. Darkness was settling over Trost slowly.

Armin knew Jean would be home by now. He'd purposely left his cell at home for that reason; two could play the game of silence. 

He barely noticed when Eren sat down.

 

"So," his company said, crossing his legs beneath the table. He took up an overwhelming majority of the leg room there. Armin didn't mind. "Trouble in paradise, huh?"

Armin looked at him through his bangs bashfully. "I guess you could say that, yes."

"That's a shame," Eren muttered, picking at the cardboard sleeve his cup had been placed in.

Armin shrugged and sat up, tying his hair back in a loose ponytail. Eren's eyes lingered on him, watching his every move. That was something he would never get used to. "It's okay. I'm used to it. Some days we can tolerate each other, and other days," he shrugged again. There was that weight in his chest again.

"Oh, I know that feeling well," Eren readjusted his sitting position. His feet were now pushed against Armin's. There was a slight tap against Armin's ankle from the toe of Eren's shoe. "You deserve better than that though. I know, I know, that's cliched as hell," he laughed, "but seriously. There's something about you, Armin that just," he paused, running his tongue along his teeth, "you're special. I don't want him to forget that."

Eren's gaze had dropped to the table while Armin's eyes were glued to his slowly cooling coffee. His face burned. Internal combustion seemed like a real option.

"I-" his right mind was long gone, probably frolicking in a field composed of Eren's stupid compliment. He had no words that weren't completely stupid, yet he said them anyway. "I think you're special too, Eren. Except you don't seem to even know it."

The corner of Eren's mouth curled slightly, "there's not a single special thing about me, man. I work in a minimum wage retail job. No talents. No interests. No degrees."

"You work in retail?"

"Unfortunately," he rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly, "not many places hire veterans. So."

"Vet- You were in the military then?" Armin leaned across the table subconsciously with peaked interest. He didn't even realize he was doing it until he noticed how close their faces were. Eren only smiled when he pulled back slightly.

"You're damn right I was," he offered a proud grin. Armin liked how he looked when he was proud. "Got discharged though," the smile was quickly replaced by a dark frown.

"What happened?" Armin asked in a whisper.

Eren's hand dropped from his neck to his upperarm. "Well, I- uh it was-"

"You don't have to tell me," Armin said quickly. "You don't have to. I'm sure it's a terrible memory and I don't want to ruin-"

"Armin." Armin noticed they cut one another off a lot. "I don't mind telling you," his voice was mellow, deep in reflection, "it was just. There was an explosion in the barracks I happened to be in. I was lucky my injuries weren't as bad as they could've been. I nearly lost an arm and a leg. Well," he amended, "I did lose the leg. But the prosthetic isn't so bad I guess."

"That's amazing," Armin shook his head, "you're amazing. You're so strong, yet you still think you aren't special. Eren, you're amazing."

Eren averted his gaze. Suddenly the menu board was a spectacle of interest, but that didn't mean Armin didn't catch the pink hue that colored his cheeks.

 

The ride back to Eren's apartment was a short one as Armin sipped on his cold coffee while Eren obnoxiously belted out the lyrics to his favorite Led Zepplin song. Armin wondered multiple times during the ride where Eren had been his entire life. 

 

Going home that night was difficult to say the least. He said goodbye three times before they even made it to the front door of the apartment.

"I really have to go this time," Armin said softly, hand placed gingerly on the front door.

Eren had followed him through the house and now leaned over him with a smile, he leaned his weight against the door making Armin incapable of opening it. He hovered over Armin, using his height to his advantage. Their faces were so close that Armin had a hard time focusing or breathing. All he saw were Eren's lips and the feel of his warm breath. He swallowed hard.

"Don't be a stranger, alright?" Eren looked at him expectantly. "I'll have to miss you again."

Armin smiled weakly. "How about we meet Friday for my lunch break?"

"Or," Eren said, "how about I meet you at the pier after you get off. This really cool aquarium is opening near the coast, and I'd like to have someone to go with. Going alone would cramp my style"

All the air that had filled Armin's lungs disappeared in an instant. He felt his eyes widen and his face heat. "I would love to, you idiot."

Eren flashed a triumphant smile and pulled away from the door. Armin cracked it open and peaked into the night, sighing. 

"Thanks again, Eren, really. Just," he bit his lip, gnawing over the words that piled in his mind, "just, thanks for being you."

"Eh," Eren shrugged, his eyes darted past Armin, "thanks for calling when you did."

Armin left before he could do anything embarrassing like hug the man or tell him he'd miss him though both were things he desperately wanted to do. 

 

Telling Jean that he had plans for Friday night had gone much simpler than expected. Armin made the call five minutes before he left work. 

Jean answered the second time Armin had called just before voicemail had the chance to take the call.

"Yeah?" Jean asked when he picked up the call.

"I'm going out tonight." Armin said. He felt like a child asking his father for permission to go on a date.

"You're going out?" Armin could hear the disbelief in his voice, "Armin you weren't home until 11 just a few days ago because you wanted coffee with Krista, right?"

"Yeah, that's right," he replied shortly.

"Is she who you'll be with again?"

"Not quite," Armin squirmed in his seat, "just some people from the office, Jean. It's no big deal. We're all just going out for dinner and we might stop by the new aquarium."

Jean sighed. "You and your fascination with fish. Just be home before 11, okay? Don't make me worry about you, Armin, seriously."

"Can my curfew be at least 11:05?"

There was a laugh on the other end of the call, "just be safe, Armin."

"You know I always am," he replied before dropping the call and bounding out the door on his way to the boardwalk. 

 

Eren was there, just as he'd promised, in a deep sea blue plaid shirt and black jeans. He waved and laughed as soon as his eyes fell on Armin's approaching figure.

"You came!" Eren exclaimed. His unmasked joy made Armin's heart swell. He didn't think he could ever get used to someone being so happy to see him.

"I didn't want to stand the fishes up," Armin said past huge gulps of air. Yeah, he was definitely not meant for running. 

Eren laughed and laced his fingers in Armin's hair, tugging lightly as he guided them on their way, "that's very courteous of you," he said, smirking.

Armin beamed and Eren's face softened into a fond grin as his hand fell away from Armin's hair.

Armin missed the touch as soon as it was gone.

 

It didn't take long for Armin to turn into a full-on dork in the aquarium. Eren seemed interested in him though, following and listening intently as Armin babbled on about the fishes in the tank his finger was jabbed into.

"Look! Eren!"

Eren raised his eyebrows and smiled, humoring him by setting his gaze into the tank.

"They're Discus," Armin explained, "that one there," he pointed, "is a Checkerboard Discus, oh and this one!" Armin darted around the circular tank, "this one is a Blue Diamond!"

"There aren't very many of them," Eren commented.

"You're right," Armin looked up from the tank briefly, "that's because they're carnivores."

"So you're saying these fish are cannibals."

Armin laughed, "only when they're in big groups. They're okay when they're in established pairs or if they were raised in a small group."

"It's nice of them not to eat their boyfriend," Eren studied Armin just a second too long, "or their girlfriend. Whatever they are."

"You're not wrong there," Armin responded, moving onto a new tank.

"You know, Armin, you're like a breathing informational plaque."

"I should be!" The smile on Armin's face never dimmed, he only grew impossibly brighter, "I studied the ocean and its creatures for 7 years."

"7 years, huh? So why are you working for our shitty ass newspaper?"

The smile faltered, "well, Jean thought Trost was a good area to set up his attorney. I agreed to move with him even though there wasn't any place for me to work with my major in Marine Biology. I did minor in journalism, though, so, it wasn't a complete loss."

Eren made a soft noise of acknowledgement, but wasn't able to say anything before a particularly ugly fish caught his attention.

"Hey, Armin," Eren waved the other man over, snickering softly.

Armin skipped over at the sound of his name.

"Mhm?"

Eren pressed his finger against the tank's glass, "I found one that kinda looks like Jean-boy."

A look of confusion crossed Armin's face before he spotted the Lump Fish nestled in the corner of the long tank. He couldn't help the fit of giggles that overcame him, though he admittedly did feel guilty for laughing. 

"That's cruel," Armin jabbed Eren in the side with a bony elbow, "I think he's cute."

Eren smirked before Armin felt himself being hauled into a one armed squeeze. "You've gotta raise your standards, man."

When Eren moved away to gaze into more tanks, Armin still felt his warmth. It seeped under his skin and left him with a doofey smile and a racing heart.

It only took a moment before Armin was racing after him, a giggling, starstruck mess. 

 

For the string of weeks following their aquarium not-date, Armin scarcely had a thought that didn't involve Eren. It was terrifying and surreal, but the man made him unfailingly happy. He'd think of him if he damn well pleased, he'd decided. 

Their meetings became more and more frequent. They met at least three times a week for lunch. They went out after Armin got off work  every Wednesday and sometimes on Fridays when they got the chance. Armin stayed at Eren's place more frequently during his time off work.

They visited parks, war museums, bowling alleys, even an ice skating rink in their time together. As they became closer, they became more daring and even ventured on to visit one another at work when the opportunity presented itself.

He supposed he should have considered the fact that Jean would become increasingly suspicious, still he found he immersed himself in Eren's company shamelessly.

 

When Armin returned home on a Thursday night just around 7, Jean sat waiting for him, a can of beer in one hand and work papers in the other. At the sound of the front door clicking shut, Jean's gaze shot up. 

"Armin," Jean greeted him blandly and in monotone. Armin knew he had reason to worry as he pulled his jacket off of his shoulders.

"Jean," he nodded, draping his coat across the barstool beside his partner.

He gasped when Jean dropped the papers he'd been so intently studying and locked his fingers around his wrist.

"What's wrong with you?" Armin snapped, attempting, but failing to, jerk his hand away.

Jean's grip on him only tightened until it was almost painful. "Don't ask me that," he growled, "you have no room to ask something like that. What's wrong with  _you_?"

"Nothing is wrong with me," Armin said defensively, straightening himself to feel taller.

"Then where have you been for the last fucking month, Armin? Huh? You're never home. We never talk. You just expect me to be okay with all this? I see you less than your friends see you. When the hell did you become such good buddies with your cousin? Armin, it doesn't add up, so fucking explain."

Armin felt Jean's nails biting into his skin, "it's none of your business what I do in my free time." His teeth were bared and clamped firmly together.

Jean's face loomed just above his. Their noses nearly touched. Armin could feel Jean's hot breath on his lips as he spoke. "It is my goddamn business, Armin. You're my boyfriend, and I expect to know what you're doing and when you're doing it."

"It didn't seem to bother you when I was the one waiting around for you," Armin spat, balling his captured hand into a tight fist in frustration. 

Jean gave a sarcastic, sour laugh before shoving Armin back. The place where his flesh and the counter made contact burned. Armin barely noticed as he rushed Jean with his hands pressed firmly against either side of his chest. 

"Maybe if you would've talked to me, it wouldn't have had to be that way," Jean sneared, his hands were wrapped firmly around Armin's shoulders.

Armin laughed bitterly. "You are so full of shit, Jean. You know that?"

He felt the hot tears drip down his cheeks and cursed himself.

Jean scowled. "What have you been up to, Armin?"

"Get out of my face," Armin said in a hushed tone, "and move out of my way."

Armin's back crashed against the nearest wall. His head fell back against the sheetrock painfully when Jean pulled his shoulders forward and slammed them back viciously. " _Talk to me!"_ Jean shouted in desperation, " _I need you to tell me we're okay!"_

Armin jerked out of Jean's grip which pinned him to the wall. His head swam as he stomped through the house and tore his jacket off the back of the barstool. 

"I'm leaving," Armin hissed with venom. "Fuck you, and fuck this."

"Armin," Jean whispered breathlessly.

 The front door slamming behind his back was the most satisfying sound he'd heard in a while with the exception of the beauty of Eren's laugh.

 

It was dark when Armin finally reached Eren's apartment. His head ached, his back was sore, and his wrist bled where Jean's nails had dug into his skin. Armin knew he hadn't meant to hurt him. He knew how Jean was when he was angry and desperate. He knew they'd both been wrong in the argument. Still, that didn't stop the emotional torment.

He knocked three times before Eren finally opened the door, shirtless and wide eyed. 

"You don't look good," Eren said, moving aside to allow Armin entrance.

 _You do though_ , Armin thought.

"It's been a long night," he replied, absently rubbing at his wrist.

The small action attracted Eren's observant eyes. Instantly, there was fire behind them.

"What did he do to you, Armin?" Eren's teeth ground together. His angry eyes flashed with the need for revenge.

Armin shook his head, "it was nothing, Eren," he said softly, "don't worry about it. I'm fine. It's fine."

Eren's fierce gaze looked him over steadily. "I hate when you say you're fine. It's always a lie."

Armin felt his own smile fall. "I'm getting good at lying these days."

Eren took Armin's face between gentle hands and turned it from one side to the other, searching for any cuts or bruises. Once he was satisfied with his search, his hands fell by his side. "You're sure you don't want me to go and beat the hell out of him?"

"Not tonight," Armin sighed with relief. 

Heavy footsteps sounded vibrated the apartment as Eren made his way to the kitchen.

"Want a drink?" Eren asked.

"Oh, I don't- I don't really drink."

"Want to tonight?"

Armin barely had to think on it.

"So much."

 

Eren reappeared with two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey, bringing them over to where Armin sat comfortably on the love seat he'd grown to love. 

Reaching out, Armin took one of the small glasses and downed it greedily. 

His head still pounded and his back still writhed, but strangely, he felt okay as he sat there studying Eren's profile.

Eren took the empty glass between long, steady fingers, refilling it and handing it back with great care.

They repeated that process once more before Armin felt every ounce of dignity and self restraint melt away. 

He'd forgotten how much of a light weight he was until it was too late. 

"Eren," Armin's voice sounded slow to his own ears.

Eren looked at him through the corners of his eyes. Temporarily, Armin refused to acknowledge the pictures on the walls.

"I have a secret," he said in a singsong tone.

"You do?" Eren smiled and tipped his head back. His adam's apple bobbed as the foul liquid traveled through his system. 

Armin hummed and moved closer to Eren. "It's about you," he whispered.

"I'm definitely interested now," Eren turned to face Armin. His back was pressed firmly against the arm of the love seat.

Armin blushed and brushed his hair behind his ears with shaky hands. "Good," he said, eyes glued to the bad pattern on the cloth, "are you ready?"

"'M ready," Eren nodded.

Armin chewed the inside of his cheek. He knew what he was about to say. He knew he meant it. He was completely aware of his every action. He was definitely not that drunk.

Steadily, he moved in closer until their cheeks were pressed against one another. His lips nearly brushed the shell of Eren's ear as he spoke.

"Eren," he whispered, "I think-" he paused and took in a slow shaking breath, "I think I'm in love with you."

There was a long pause were only the sounds of their breathing and the ticking of the grandfather clock across the room filled the empty space.

"Armin-" Eren pulled back slowly, against clasping his face between his steady hands. "You're just-"

"No I'm not," Armin argued. "I'm not just drunk. I'm not."

Eren opened his mouth before letting it fall back closed. He swallowed his words forcefully.

"I need you to say something, Eren," Armin's eyes were stuck on his chest. He couldn't look Eren in the eyes.

"Ere-"

 

Their lips crashed together. It was violent and rushed and slightly painful. Armin loved every second of it. 

"You really do have low standards," Eren's voice was husky; his laugh was dry. 

Armin giggled, "speak for yourself."

Eren's hands found Armin's sides and lifted him with ease until he straddled Eren's wide lap. 

Armin sat on his thighs, fingers tangled in Eren's unkempt hair as he kissed him again. There was much less hurried desperation as Eren splayed his hands along Armin's back, sucking softly on Armin's lower lip.

He emitted a soft whine, tightening his hold on Eren's locks as his tongue grazed Eren's upper lip before the other man allowed him entrance. 

His tongue explored Eren's mouth with wild curiosity. He tasted like an odd combination of alcohol and toothpaste. Armin ground against Eren subconsciously and almost regretted his actions until he heard Eren groan.

Armin smirked and trailed kisses along Eren's jaw and down his neck, biting and sucking until he reached the base of his neck. Armin felt Eren's hands climbing underneath his shirt with caution. Slowly, Armin pulled back and lifted his shirt over his head. His lips found Eren's ear.

"It's okay, Eren," he whispered his timid consent, "it's okay."

"And Jean?" Eren asked.

Armin shook his head. "Don't worry about him."

Eren nodded. "One second," he gently moved Armin onto the sofa before rising and wandering into his bedroom. Armin watched after him before he returned with a small bottle Armin easily recognized.

His face was a deep red as he tossed it beside Armin. It tapped the cushion Armin sat on softly. Armin smiled as he observed Eren's timid embarrassment. He'd never known Eren to be anything but confident and brash. It was a completely different side of him. He loved this side of him just as much.

"Just in case..." Eren's hand was clasped around the back of his neck nervously.

Armin reached up and grabbed Eren, pulling him back down. Eren hovered over Armin, his knee placed between Armin's legs. 

Armin pulled his face down slowly and kissed him with purpose.

"Just in case," Armin agreed.

 

It didn't take very long for the bottle of lube to become useful. 

 

With Eren surrounding him, holding him, kissing him, pressing inside of him, Armin learned the difference between contentment and happiness. He learned that Eren was everything he'd ever wanted in a person. 

Because of that Thursday night, Armin learned what divided the concepts of love and lust.

He learned with every roll of Eren's hips and every wet kissed placed against the long plane of his neck.

He learned he needed Eren, and there as no going back. 


	4. Chapter 4

Armin knew that being so happy in such a disgraceful situation should have made him feel guilty. He should hate himself. He knew he should march out of Eren's cozy apartment and never look back because that's how these things worked. That's what his morals expected of him.

He knew Jean would be waiting for him.

This was the miracle of the situation though: he just didn't care.

How could he care when he was wrapped so securely in Eren's arms beneath his warm duvet? Caring was not an option when he felt Eren hands unconsciously wander across his naked back as he slept. 

He knew he loved Jean, but that love was like a candle compared to the wildfire he and Eren shared.

They were untouchable to a point where Armin's guilt couldn't even stand in the way.

 

He nestled his face deeper into Eren's chest; the strong scent of his skin drove away all thoughts of Jean.

 

"Hey," Eren's drowsy voice broke the silence of early morning. Armin's finger tips froze where they dragged along Eren's abdomen. "You're still here," his smile was lazy and crooked, but dazzling nonetheless. Sunlight streamed through his curtains in individual rays and gave the room a soft orange glow.

Armin's heart fluttered. "You thought I wouldn't be?" His voice was painfully scratchy with sleep.

Shrugging, Eren raised himself lazily onto his elbows, "I'd be lying if I said I didn't consider it."

Armin pressed his lips together in a hard line and shook his head, "I couldn't do that to you. I'd never want to."

It was true. He could imagine himself rooted in this bed and attached to Eren's hip for the rest of their natural lives and never have the desire to be anywhere else. With Eren, he felt protect, yet impossibly strong and important. He felt wanted and cared for. Unwillingly, his eyes moved to the wrist Jean had grabbed the day before.

It was now wrapped in gauze approximately an inch too thick which Armin had no recollection of putting there. When Armin's gaze caught Eren's vibrant eyes, the other man looked away shyly. His cheeks were pink, and his lower lip was caught between his teeth.

Streams of sunlight created bands across his soft face.

Eren shrugged, "I just... you fell asleep and I remembered what you did for me after the bar fight, so I thought I'd at least try- I'm no doctor I mean you probably want to redo it but I-"

Armin cut the rambling short with a soft kiss, just a light brush of lips which silenced Eren in a second and made Armin's heart squeeze. Armin couldn't help but give a particularly girly giggle past a giddy smile.

Pressing his hand against Eren's face, Armin worked a lock of the man's hair around his index finger idly; his eyes were still fixed on the bandage as he was unable to look at Eren without his heart threatening to pound out of his chest. "You're a natural, Eren."

Eren visibly relaxed into Armin's touch with a content, silent sigh.

Past Eren, Armin could see the alarm clock on the nightstand, glaring at him with blinking red letters. Reality demanded him back.

He frowned.

Eren sat up straighter, eye brows furrowed together as he studied Armin's face. "What's wrong?" His voice sounded high strung and on red alert.

Armin laughed and patted down some of Eren's wild bedhead. "I just have to go to work, Eren. You can't protect me from that."

Eren huffed. "I can sure as hell try."

In one less-than-graceful movement, Eren kicked a leg over Armin, pinning Armin's legs together with his knees, holding his hands over his pillow. When Eren leaned over Armin, their faces were hidden by a curtain of tangled brown hair. Even past the dark shadows that blotted out his bright features, the morning sun still filtered through his impossibly green eyes. They glittered like gems when he placed a kiss on the tip of Armin's nose.

"You're ridiculous," Armin smiled, biting his cheek.

"Tell me something I don't know," Eren countered, peppering kisses along his jaw.

Armin thought silently for a moment. "I love you most."

Eren pulled away, tucking his hair behind his ears. His mouth was pulled into an amused smirk. "And you say  _I'm_ ridiculous."

 

Leaving Eren's apartment seemed to get harder every time Armin had to do it. Eren had watched him dress, offering him even more over-sized shirts which Armin had accepted greedily. Eren had made him breakfast. Eren had sent him off with a goodbye kiss and a request to call as soon as he could.

He called once he reached downtown Trost. Busy people in business attire shuffled by him, shouting into cellphones while balancing breifcases, folders filled to the brim with paperwork, and extra large coffees. Armin assumed they'd all need them; he knew none of them had slept as well as he had the night before.

Eren answered after the second ring with a laugh. "I didn't mean you had to call now."

Armin shrugged though he knew it was pointless without Eren there to see it. "I wanted to talk to you now, if that's alright."

Eren hummed, and a bed creaked as he, Armin assumed, fell back into it.  "You're asking my permission to talk?"

"Well," Armin stammered, "you kind of have to make an appointment nowadays to get in touch with Jean, so, if it's not convenient I can-"

"Armin," Eren said, "you could call me in the middle of the apocalypse when the world is on fire and goats are falling from the sky, and it will still not be an inconvenient time to talk to you."

Though he stood in the center of a bus that was packed to the brim with approximately 30 people too many, Armin laughed openly and loudly. Some people gave him strange glances, but some smiled on and kept their gaze set steadfastly out the nearest window. "Eren, I'm pretty sure goats don't fall out of the sky during the apocalypse."

This earned him a few concerned glances. The elderly woman to his right stepped away just far enough to be noticeable. Armin still smiled her way.

"But do you know?" Eren countered, sleep seemed heavy in his voice.

Armin sighed. "Eren I'm pretty sure."

"But are you absolutely positive?" He asked.

"No," Armin laughed.

"Then I'm sticking to my guns here, Arlert."

"You wanna make it a bet, Jaeger?" Armin's stomach flooded with warmth. His chest felt light, and he could feel flowers blooming there, growing, spreading and filling his veins.

"You're on," Eren replied, "it's you and me to the end of the world."

"Only for the sake of a bet," Armin could barely speak past the joy and threatened to bubble up and overflow. His word's shook with suppressed giggling.

Eren hummed. "I'll take it."

They talked about nothing for the rest of Armin's ride, but it was the most entertaining conversation Armin had ever had. By the time the call ended, they'd made plans to meet at the pier that night. When Eren parted with the words 'I love you', Armin's heart nearly exploded from his chest. 

He glided through bustling streets on his walk from the bus stop, head in the clouds, stomach buzzing with restless butterflies.

Those butterflies became a lead weight, though, as soon as Armin stepped foot into his office.

 

Every pair of eyes in the place were trained on him. Some people wore smirks, some giggled, others whispered amongst themselves, gaze flicking to his cubicle and back again.

"Um?" Armin asked, stepping fully inside and letting the door close behind him.

"Some gifts came for you!" Sasha squawked from the front of the group.

"What are you talking about?" Armin asked, eyes squinted in confusion.

Sasha, unable to hold herself back, grabbed Armin's wrist and dragged him deeper into the office. Connie sighed and followed shortly after to insure Armin's safety.  

When the trio rounded the corner into his cubicle, Armin stopped dead in his tracks. Sasha ventured in further and stretched her arms out dramatically. " _Look!_ " she practically screamed, "I wish some people would do this for me. Looking at you, Connie," she grumbled.

Connie shrugged. "Dream on."

Twelve massive bouquets of roses were placed strategically around the small space, each in an expensive looking vase. There was a different colored ribbon tied securely around each individual bouquet, and cards hung from them all. Armin stepped forward carefully with measured steps; his footfalls were shaky. To Armin, it felt like walking through a landmine.

Reaching out, he took one of the folded cards and tore it from the ribbon it dangled from.

 _Armin,_ the card read,  _Armin, please come home. I'm so sorry. I need you. I need you here. I messed up, I know I messed up, just please come home. Come back to me. I can make it right. You know I can. I would turn the world upside down to right this. Armin, please._

Armin recognized Jean's softly curved penmanship instantly, and the flowers that had bloomed in his soul minutes before now constricted his lungs and tore his throat to shreds. They wilted in his chest and hung low in his gut. 

Connie caught onto the change in the atmosphere and tilted his head towards where the others were. "Sasha, let's leave him to enjoy his flowers, yeah?"

Sasha pouted; Armin could see her lower lip jutting out as she walked past. Connie's arm wrapped around her waist securely and they left together in relative silence.

Twelve very different and equally sincere apologies sat around him. Suddenly, the flowers wreaked. Their colors were too bright, scent too pungent. Purposefully, Armin yanked each card off of their pretty curled ribbons and stacked them in his shaking hand until they'd all been violently removed.

Like a silent storm, he took off to the paper shredder. His peers worked diligently around him, barely sparing him anything more than a passing smile as he passed. He didn't return it. A storm had risen inside of him. Every time he thought maybe he should accept Jean's apology, his back would ache where he'd been shoved into the granite counter top, his head would throb where it had bounced off the unforgiving wall, his wrist would burn beneath the heavily applied gauze.

Armin had a choice between the hurt and the healer. He would choose the healer every time, he was sure of it. Eren was the obvious choice every time.

Armin switched on the paper shredder with a harder-than-necessary flip of the switch. It buzzed as it came to life and Armin impatiently crammed every single one of those stupid cards through the blades. Once they'd been shredded, he took the remains and ran them through the machine again.

When he was sure the apologies had been thoroughly diced, he took the waste basket of Jean's meaningless words and dumped them directly into the men's bathroom toilet, flushing not once or twice, but three times.

With shaking hands, Armin pulled his mobile from his pants pocket.

**To: Eren**

He tried to type three different messages to explain what Jean had done and what he had done in retaliation to what Jean had done. Eventually, he decided there was no point to telling the story and settled on three words that made the irritable shaking leave his body and expelled the pungent smell of 144 roses from his senses. 

**I love you.**

 

Hitting send, he slid down the bathroom door and took in a shaky breath with a slow exhale.

Eren's reply came within two minutes. Armin was sure he'd woken the man up. The words were misspelled and poorly selected.

 

**From: Eren**

**i loveyou 2 man u having a goodd ay?**

 

Armin laughed and hugged his phone to his chest before replying.

 

**To: Eren**

**Go to bed.**

 

The phone screen didn't even have time to dim before the response came.

 

**From: Eren**

**dont have 2 tellme twiice**

 

Smile stained on his face, Armin slid back into his cubicle and worked through the day despite the strong smell of flowers and Sasha yelling at Connie about being more romantic.

Finally, Connie, after hours of torment from Sasha, broke and dangled over the top of his cubicle wall.

Armin glanced at him, unsure. The small smile he offered was shy and pitying. Connie's eyes narrowed into small slits as he whispered, "you tell your dumb as shit boyfriend that gifts are prohibited from this establishment. Also, tell him I said 'fuck you', if you would."

"It'd be my pleasure," Armin laughed. 

Connie huffed before slinking (falling) back over to his side of the cubicle.

There was a loud scrape, the sound of papers being launched into the air, vulgar curses, and finally the sound of a body hitting the floor.

" _SPRINGER!"_  Shadis's voice rang out through the small office space.

"Fuck," Connie muttered.

 

It was 5:01 pm when Eren called. Armin stood outside, dropping the last of the flowers into the dumpster in the back alleyway.

"Where are you?" Eren exclaimed impatiently.

Armin laughed and pulled his phone away from his face to check the time. "Eren, I literally got off one minute ago."

"That's plenty of time."

"Oh my God give me five minutes."

Eren sighed before hanging up dramatically. 

As Armin left he waved goodbye to Connie who had been forced to stay late in order to clean his mess and went on his way to the boardwalk. His phone rang again once he'd walked approximately one block.

" _EREN."_ Armin screamed into the phone microphone exasperatedly. 

Jean, making very confused sounds, was on the other line. Armin clammed up instantly. The sickness came back ten fold.

"What? Who? Armin?"

"Hi, Jean," Armin said quietly.

"Where are you?" Jean asked.

"Out." He replied quickly. Jean hadn't asked for an explanation, and even if he had he didn't deserve one in Armin's mind.

"Out where?"

"Outside, Jean. Are we playing 20 questions?" There was such a bitterness in his voice. He'd never let it leak through like this. All his anger and disappointment in their failing relationship had built up in his chest, in his head, and in his gut over the course of five years until all were overflowing. His filter was diminishing and his hold on his friendly tone was slipping.

Jean cleared his throat. "Did you get the flowers?"

"Yes," Armin said shortly, "I got the flowers. All 150 of them."

There was a long pause. Armin tucked his phone between his ear and his shoulder, rubbing idly at Eren's thick bandages.

"Are you coming home?"

"Krista said I could stay at her place for another night."

"We need to talk though, Armin."

"Because that worked out so well last time. I'm staying at Krista's tonight, alright? I already told her I would."

"Armin, you need to come home," the voice on the line, though static-y, cracked, and with that, so did Armin's tough exterior.

He pressed his lips together. His stomach hurt. "I know, Jean," his voice shook, "tomorrow. I promise. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Jean mumbled before hanging up.

 

"Armin!" Eren's loud voice and frantic waving pulled him from his daze.

As he looked up, Eren's hand fell back to his side, and his face pinched. Before Armin had realized Eren was moving towards him, they stood toe to toe, Armin dropped his phone in his work coat pocket and looked up slowly.

Eren, hands pressed against each side of Armin's face, whispered his name with reverence before placing a gentle against his lips. "Hi," Eren breathed, his breath was warm against Armin's neck as he buried his face in the crook of his neck, arms wrapped securely around his torso.

Armin hid his face in Eren's hair and laughed through his nose. "Hi."

 

"I put a lot of work into this date," Eren said as the two walked down the pier, hand in hand.

"Is that so?" Armin gave Eren's hand a squeeze.

He hummed, "it has to be special. 'Cause you're kinda special."

Armin smirked, "you've told me."

"Don't kill the romance," Eren bumped his hip against Armin's.

In retalitation, Armin rammed against Eren with his shoulder. Eren kicked Armin's heel with the toe of his shoe. Armin pinched Eren's side. Eren ruffled Armin's hair until it was an unsightly disaster. As a final attack, Armin planted a kiss against Eren's cheek, nearly having to stand on his toes to do it.

He was so in love. So, so disgustingly in love.

The thought was punctuated by Eren kissing his temple and dragging him in closer with an arm wrapped around his shoulders. 

 

Eren led Armin in the direction of the infamous bar that had started their entire mess. Armin raised an eyebrow.

"You're taking me to drink with you? Yet you believe I killed the romance?"

Eren laughed and shook his head, "no, it's just a coincidence that we're walking past it. Though, as I remember it, alcohol doesn't exactly hinder your romantic side."

"Shut up," Armin hissed, cheeks warming. 

Eren hummed with a fond smile.

As the duo walked past the bar, Armin couldn't suffocate his need to look into the place. A young couple inhabited the table where Jean and Armin had hit rock bottom. They smiled in the dim light; their cheeks were flushed and their fingers were tangled together across the table top. Armin smiled and mentally wished them the best when his eyes strayed to the spot where Eren had once sat, miserable and drowning in empty bottle.

A small group of middle aged men had taken the spot over, all of which had eyes intently trained on a sports game. Suddenly, they all shouted, cheering with arms raised high, slapping one another's back and pounding fists.

Armin laughed and set his gaze on Eren before wrapping his arms securely around his company's stomach, cuddling himself into his open side. Eren gave a fond smile, his wide eyes were soft and his mouth was parted slightly.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Armin heard the concern there. Eren never asked questions just to fill empty silence. He always meant what he said sincerely.

Armin nodded. "I'm just really happy. That's all."

They walked side by side at an awkward angle with Armin pressed completely against Eren's side, and though it was uncomfortable, neither of the men complained as Eren led them to a beach entrance. 

 

Armin's immediate reaction to Eren leading them both to a picnic basket settled on the beach was to mock him. It was second nature at this point. Armin nodded to the setup.

"So, this is what hard work and preparation looks like, huh?"

Eren scowled. "I don't think you truly appreciate how difficult it is to tether a blanket sized tablecloth to loose sand while fighting seagulls away from a picnic basket that won't stay shut."

Armin shrugged, "I think you're right. You should show me the process some time."

"Absolutely fucking not."

Eren shot his picnic set up an accusatory glare. 

 

Eren was no chef. Their picnic consisted of loaves of bread, packaged lunch meat, and a store bought cake. Armin loved it regardless, though he took as many opportunities to poke fun as he could, just to watch Eren valiantly defend his hard work.

"You're an ass," Eren laughed, smearing much-too-sweet icing across Armin's cheek, "I'm giving you back to Jean. No one warned me about this side of you."

Armin laughed and dotted Eren's nose with the inedibly sweet concoction. "You have to learn resilience somehow," Armin shrugged.

Children's screams could be heard from the boardwalk overhead, their hard footprints beat the weather worn wooden planks mercilessly.

Eren and Armin had relocated beneath the boardwalk, nestled between a few rocks, completely excluded, watching as the ocean lapped at the slowly rising moon. The white sand had turned a luminescent blue under its soft glow. The ocean was black as the night itself. White caps formed as waves broke with loud roars that could be heard across the beach.

Armin swiped his finger through a sugar rose that topped the cake and smeared the red cream along Eren's lips, moving back to marvel at his work.

"You know, Eren," he said before sticking his finger in his mouth to lick the remaining icing off his fingertip, "if you were to curl your hair or something you'd be a pretty girl."

Eren laughed and raked a hand through his hair dramatically, "you think so?" he asked past a smile.

Armin shrugged, "of course. You're not such a bad looking man, either, really. It's unfair."

"Look who's gaining confidence," Eren remarked, leaning in towards Armin. The teeth that peaked out from behind his smile shown in the darkness, though they were coated thoroughly in red frosting.

Armin blushed instantly and averted his eyes. "I just- I can't take you seriously with the-" he motioned to his lips.

"Huh," Eren huffed, "well then get it off for me?"

Armin's blush deepened. Suddenly he was grateful for the lack of light where they sat. "Nope," Armin shook his head, "you can do it."

Eren smirked and moved onto his hands and knees, eyes aflame with mischief.  

"Eren," Armin warned, and pushed back through the sand. He felt the grains scratch beneath his clothes and sighed.

"Mhm?" Eren moved closer.

"Don't you dare move any closer."

"Not even for a kiss?"

"Especially not for a kiss," Armin held his hand out defensively.

"A small one," Eren reasoned.

"Not a chance."

"Just a tiny peck."

"Absolutely not."

Eren shrugged and sat back on his legs, moving his finger through the cake. 

 

Armin couldn't stop Eren's attack.

He moved quickly, even through uneven sand, and had Armin pressed flush against the ground on his back in no time. He felt Eren rub the icing against the bare skin at his neck and wrinkled his nose. "That feels disgusting," he complained.

"Yeah tell me about it," Eren pressed his lips against Armin's leaving them both with identical, vivid red smears across their faces.

Armin wrinkled his nose, but all his playful remarks and complaints fell from his tongue when Eren began kissing and licking along his neck.

"Eren," his name came out as a lot more of a whimper than Armin had intended.

Eren chuckled, teeth scraping along sensitive skin. "Yes?" he whispered once he'd neared Armin's ear, kissing just beneath it.

Sparks and shivers shot through every vein in Armin's body. Chill bumps raised on his arms. He lost all control of himself when his arms wrapped around Eren securely. 

"You can't stop now," he whispered in reply.

Eren shrugged, nibbling along Armin's neck. "Wasn't planning to."

"Charming," Armin managed past a particularly loud groan.

Eren only laughed. 

 

Both men lost track of time as they lay in like sand, taking turns licking and sucking at skin that would bruise magnificently in the morning.

"Armin," Eren's voice took on a distinctly serious tone, gaining Armin's undivided attention.

Armin sat upright on top of Eren, his shirt had been discarded somewhere around their secluded area between the rocks. He pressed his hands against Eren's stomach. "Yeah?"

Eren stayed uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes where glassy, glistening with the help of the pale moon. "What is it, Eren?" Armin whispered; suddenly, he was flooded with concern.

Shaking his head, Eren glued his vision to the boardwalk above, refusing eye contact. The heavy footsteps that had once pounded above them had disappeared. Most of the public had retreated back to their homes and hotels for the night.

"Eren?"

"Stay."

"What?"

"Stay. With me. Armin, stay."

"I-" Armin chewed his lower lip, his hands had began to tremble. Eren's hands instinctively found his, holding them securely until the trembling had all but ceased. His callused thumbs dragged along Armin's knuckles. "I- I just need time, Eren. Give me time. I can figure this out."

Eren's face, which was, under normal circumstances, an open book of emotion, was now a blank canvas. Unseeing emerald eyes stared into the night, his thumbs worked over Armin's hands almost mechanically. "I trust you, Armin," Eren's voice trembled at the same rate of Armin's hands, "I trust you."

 

The days and weeks spent after their date on the beach were absolute torture. Armin had forced himself into a bind, dividing his time between Jean and Eren. Hiding both men from each other was tiring and daunting to say the very least.

Eren could see Armin growing weary, and he tried so hard to stay positive for the both of them.

Sometimes, late at night, when sleep wouldn't come to them, Eren would bury his face in Armin's stomach and heave in shaking breaths. "It'll be okay," he'd say when the heavy silence became too much to bear, "we'll be okay. We'll figure this mess out, Armin. We'll be okay."

But, no matter how much hope and optimism they tried to cling to, they both knew the relationship was falling through the cracks at an unbelievable rate. Neither of them could catch the frayed pieces as they fell apart bit by bit. 

Lying to Jean was becoming so simple, it was almost easier than telling the truth. "I have to work tonight," he'd say. Jean would nod and sigh, wishing him a good night.

"Krista invited me to a party," he'd given once as an excuse. Jean had given him a tired look but nodded and waved him away anyway.

This list of piss poor lies grew rapidly.

Eren's patience was being tested.

Jean's limit was being stretched.

Armin was running himself into the ground trying to maintain relationships with the two men he knew he loved. 

He thought he could handle his situation. He thought he could please Eren. He thought he could keep the peace with Jean. He'd so stupidly thought he could leave Jean for a someone he barely knew.

His hormones had taken over and for just one stupid second he thought he could be happy.

Life wasn't a god damn fairy tale, though, and Armin was never meant to be saved by a knight like Eren. 

 

Eren had placed his trust in the wrong individual, Armin concluded when he was knocked awake by painful guilt at 5:20 on the morning of their two month anniversary. Eren slept soundly by his side, hair spread wildly across both his and Armin's pillows. Armin sat up in the bed and ran his fingers through the few locks which had fallen onto his pillow with shaking hands.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to Eren's peacefully sleeping figure. "I'm so sorry, Eren. I'm sorry."

Hot tears spilled down his cheeks when he pushed himself off the the king sized bed with as little squeaking as he could manage. Once he had completely dropped onto the floor, Eren spread beneath the blankets, but otherwise, didn't move. Armin gave a wavering sigh of relief as he collected his clothes and shoes, and exited the room on light feet.

Armin despite himself, wrote Eren a note before he left. He reminded himself so much of Jean as he scribbled out the words 'I'M SORRY' onto a piece of scratch paper and tacked it to a cork board filled with business cards and reminders Eren wrote for himself. 

At least Jean had given roses with his meaningless apologies, Armin thought. Armin couldn't even manage simple niceties for Eren.

He and Jean were the same person, Armin told himself. They were meant to suffer together. They both lacked a backbone, a conscious, and most importantly, a heart.

Eren didn't deserve this. Jean had never asked for this. Armin deserved neither of them, but he was greedy and refused to let them both go.

"I'm sorry," he said one final time before turning the knob to the front door. 

 

"Where are you going?" Eren's voice cut through the silence, startling Armin and causing him to slam the door violently as he tried to steady his breathing.

Armin kept his eyes glued to the door, heart beat erratic from both fear and the helplessness of being caught. 

"I- uh, I was just-" Armin's eyes searched the wooden door helplessly. It's chipping paint offered no aid.

"Armin," Eren whispered.

"I- I was just- uh. I"

"Talk to me, Armin. I need you to talk to me," Eren coaxed. 

The pleading tone in his voice broke Armin entirely. His confession came cascading from his mouth unwillingly. He hurt all over.

" _Home_ ," Armin cried out, spinning on his heels to face Eren, " _home._ I'm going home, Eren." His throat closed and his words were nothing more than mere squeaks. 

"Back to that abusive horse-faced equine fuck?"

"He doesn't mean any harm," Armin whispered. He didn't want to defend Jean, but he couldn't stop himself. 

Eren's face contorted in ugly distaste, "who cares if he means harm? He  _causes_ it. You know he does."

" _I know!"_ Armin screeched, "And so do I. We belong with each other. I've been dragging you both down since that day in the bar, Eren.  _I'm causing just as much harm as he is._ "

"Don't say that," Eren growled.

"Oh trust me, I don't want to. Speaking the truth really hasn't been my style for the past eight months. This isn't healthy. I deserve a hell of a lot worse, while you need better. I can't be better for you, Eren. I am so tired."

" _Then stay with me, Armin,"_ Eren's voice finally rose.

" _I can't,_ " Armin screamed back, " _Jean is all I have."_

_"You have me."_

Armin shook his head. "Not anymore. I am an anchor and I am dragging you down so fast, Eren. You don't need me. You have family, and friends, and... and that  _girl_ ," Armin's arm flailed wildly in the direction of the living room where the pictures of Eren and the girl sat in their usual resting places.

"Gir-"

Armin shook his head, breathing heavily, "don't, Eren. Please. Please just let me go home. Please let Jean and I drown together like we deserve. Let us suffer in our own mess. I can't leave him," he shook his head violently, blonde hair sticking to his face.

He could feel boiling hot tears rolling in streams down his face.

"Armin I-"

"I can't leave him." Armin's voice cracked with exertion, "not for this," he whispered, "not for you."

Eren's jaw clenched and unclenched, hands balled securely at his sides. He didn't speak. He didn't move. He hardly breathed.

Armin hadn't realized what he'd said before it was too late. His heart dropped into his stomach and the acid there tore it apart mercilessly.

"Eren I didn't-"

"Leave," Eren whispered, "just, if that's what you want," he shook his head stiffly, "just go if he's so important. I won't stop you."

"Eren I-"

Eren dismissed his words by turning and trudging deeper into the interior of the apartment coldly. 

 

With a heavy heart and tears rolling freely, Armin left, slamming the door, running across the street, and never looking back. Not once. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Armin have split. Jean and Armin are as miserable as ever. Connie tries to be a superhero, and Reiner becomes a valuable asset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY I FINALLY UPDATED WOW.  
> Connie uses a slur in this chapter. It's in a friendly way, but he does use the word 'gay' in the bar scene, so be on the aware.  
> I have some theme songs for this chapter too!
> 
> Eren x Armin: [Sad Song by We the Kings](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZsXcc_tC-o)
> 
> Jean x Armin: [Just Hold Me by Maria Mena](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyvA6lFdiWc)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it, and I'm so sorry it took so long! I have the next chapter planned, so hopefully an update won't take two weeks again.  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Thank you so much for your support. Holy shit we're close to 2k hits.  
> You guys are the greatest.

"Dude," Connie commented the minute Armin stepped into work on Monday morning, "you look like shit."

Armin glowered, eyes downcast, the lids barely stayed open. He was fully aware of just how shitty he looked. It was the result of a shitty weekend. What could he say?

"Observant as ever, Connie," Armin replied. His voice dragged. His throat burned from yelling at both Eren and Jean over the past two days from Hell, and the deep purple bags under his eyes sagged further than they usually did, vibrant like deep violet flowers blooming on his deteriorating state. Rubbing at them irritably in the reflection of his computer monitor, he spoke again. "You really missed your calling as a detective."

Connie shrugged, "too much school."

"Right," Armin sighed, adjusting himself in his chair to turn on his computer monitor. The thing was ancient, probably constructed some time around the year 850, but, so long as it worked as it should, Shadis refused to replace it. Much to Armin's dismay. The hunk of scrap metal wheezed to life agonizingly slow, groaning, and beeping, and buzzing at full volume. There was a reason he never turned the antique off, and this was it. 

" _Shit,_ " Connie moaned along with the symphony of mechanical rucuss, hands clamped securely against both ears. For some reason, he squinted into the noise as if that would help to silence the din.

Armin propped his chin in his palm and waited patiently for the noise to cease, completely unamused by Connie's antics. 

Connie frowned and dropped his hands once he realized the sounds had died down. "You're really,  _really_ not okay, are you?"

Armin's gaze flicked upwards to where Connie leaned heavily over the wall which divided their cubicles. He really did look concerned, so Armin decided to take the bait. May as well have someone to bitch to.

"I'm really, really not," Armin replied before hastily adding, "and get down before you fall again."

With a sigh, Connie rolled his eyes and jumped down from his place on his desk creating a soft thump as he muttered something similar to "okay mom." Armin should've known Connie wouldn't stay away just because he couldn't speak over the top of the cubicles. But, when Connie's footfalls entered Armin's cubicle, he couldn't help but to be slightly annoyed. He really did try his best to hide his frustration.

Either Connie was completely oblivious to it or just didn't want to acknowledge Armin's annoyance. Either way, he never said a thing about it as he stood in the door way, pinning Armin in his office helplessly. 

"Hey," Connie said lightly, "how about a drink after work?"

"Shouldn't you be asking Sasha something like that?"

"Nah, we have a sick kid. She's at home taking care of that. Come on, my treat."

"You should probably be helping her," Armin commented, pretending to busy himself with some scrap papers he'd forgotten to file away the previous Friday. 

Connie's smile tilted downward. "Do I look like a doctor to you, man?"

Armin gave him a once over before shaking his head.

"Too much school," Armin said briefly.

"You're damn right, so how about it? Just one. Look, dude, I'm no therapist, but God knows I know how to talk. Maybe I can get your mind off of whatever the hell's wrong with you." Connie strolled over to where Armin sat, and plopped himself atop Armin's desk, planting his ass right on top of the papers Armin had been so intently focused on.

Armin sighed and sat back exasperatedly, rubbing his fingers across his mouth, unsure of what to say. "I really can't," his words were muffled and hushed past his hand.

"You better have a damn good reason for rejecting me, Arlert. I'm a good date. The only excuse I'll accept is you having a hot date with a 'straight man'," Connie winked past his air quotes, and Armin's stomach dropped uncomfortably as he slowly deflated. He felt his eyes become glassy, and he hated himself so much for breaking so easily. Even the mere mention of Eren sent him into an unstoppable downward spiral. He hadn't eaten in two days, yet he still felt the need to vomit and curl into the fetal position. 

It was impossible to speak, and Armin knew he'd be stupid to even try. Instead, he settled for shaking his head until it swam. He tried to shake the tears from his eyes and the thoughts of Eren from his head, but he succeeded in neither. He was a broken disaster, and the realization hit him so hard the tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop them or rub them away with trembling hands. Suddenly, breathing was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. 

He sank lower into his chair, hoping and praying he could fold into himself and disappear. Connie couldn't see him like this. No one had ever seen him like this aside from Jean.

Jean.

The Jean who'd loved him for so long. The one who apologized daily. The one who Armin had cheated on for two months; who he'd considered leaving for eight. The one who he could no longer look in the eye. The one who he lied to so effortlessly.

The Jean he hated to care so god damn much about.

The Jean who Armin had left the man of his dreams for because he deserved nothing less than suffering. He'd found himself at the end of his rope, and his time to hang had come; he was taking Jean down with him.

 _Jean_. 

The wracking sobbing that overtook him couldn't be stopped, and Armin didn't complain when Connie slid off his desk and wrapped his arms securely across his neck. 

"You need to calm down, alright?" Connie's voice was much too loud to be considered a whisper, but he'd tried, and Armin couldn't spare a word of protest. "Armin, give me a chance. You need some kind of distraction, and dude, that's what I'm best at."

Armin released a whimpering, shaky breath. He felt gross, and snotty, but mostly just tired. Tired of everything. His puffy eyes burned, and his chest physically ached. So tired. "I- I can't, Connie," he breathed. Mortified, he continued, "Jean won't let me." His voice was an autumn leaf caught in an unforgiving gale.

"Jean won't-" Connie pulled back, eyebrows knitted together intensely. His mouth had pulled into a hard frown which was a foreign feature on Connie's ordinarily bright face. "What do you mean he won't  _let_ you?"

"There's just-" Armin's stomach flipped and turned, churning the same guilty sickness that Armin was becoming so used to. "There's a lot of distrust and, um, tension, I guess, right now and he just- I mean I can't- we-"

"What is he? Your dad?" Connie stood upright, piercing eyes drilling holes into Armin's weak frame.

Numbly, Armin shook his head.

"That's exactly right. How old are you, Armin?"

"Uh?" He had to think on it, embarrassingly. He hadn't answered that questions since he'd turned 13. People stopped caring after that. "28?"

Connie nodded, "old enough to make your own decisions then, right?"

Armin's throat felt thick and his breathing sounded labored to his own ears as he tried to pull himself together. By some form of a miracle, none of his coworkers had passed the cubicle to see him in such a disheveled state. Sometimes he was convinced he had some form of good luck in situations like this. It kept him sane. 

Shakily, Armin nodded. He was old enough to make his own decisions. He just physically couldn't. 

"Alright," Connie muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "so, would you go if you could?"

Again, he nodded. In reality, Armin knew he'd do nearly anything to escape Jean and his desperate pleading for an explanation mixed with disappointed glances.

"Good. Give me your phone," Connie instructed, arm outstretched. His fingers flexed as a silent invitation for Armin to drop his mobile into Connie's openly waiting palm.  

"My-"

"Phone."

"Why?"

"I have to talk to Jean-O about letting me take you out on a hot date."

Armin shook his head, keeping his hand firmly pressed against the place where his phone sat in his slacks. "You don't need to do that."

"Armin," Connie sighed, "if you need permission, one of us has to call. Me or you. Take your pick. Maybe we can get Shadis to do it," Connie nodded in deep contemplation, "he's a scary son of a bitch, let me go get him."

" _No!_ " Armin screeched, flying from his chair to hold Connie in place. "No," he whispered, hands placed firmly against Connie's shoulders, fingertips digging into fabric and flesh, "I can do it. I can. I can do it."

"You sure?" Connie asked with hesitance.

Armin nodded, "'m sure."

 

He couldn't do it.

Armin let the line ring one, two, three times before he lost his nerve and shoved the phone into Connie's chest, falling back into his seat, helplessly awaiting the worst.

Connie, with a self satisfied smirk, took the phone effortlessly in his small hands and began to pace until Jean picked up the line with a monotone 'hello' which Armin could hear from across the cubicle. Taking that as his cue to leave, Connie stepped away from Armin and into the open office space.

"Jean! My main man!" Connie shouted into the phone brightly. In his face, Connie seemed irritated before Armin lost visual and was left to wallow in self pity and all-consuming curiosity. 

 

Connie returned 6 agonizing minutes and 43 miserable seconds later, face painted with a victorious smile, tossing the phone in Armin's general direction. Armin nearly fell out of his chair with flopping hands trying to catch the thing before it made contact with the concrete floor. He turned it off immediately before Jean could call and shoved it in the nearest desk drawer.

"Well," Connie said, hands pressed against his hips and chest poked out proudly, "I think I convinced him we weren't dating."

Armin gave a cautious look, unsure of if he should ask why. 

Connie didn't give him time to ask anyway. "He said I was annoying and a good-for-nothing, and you could do better," he shrugged, "too bad he doesn't know of my impeccable good looks."

The confident smile that lit his face was blinding. 

Armin gave a soft sigh of relief and offered his warmest, most grateful smile. "Thanks, Connie. I owe you."

Armin earned himself a hard slap on the back, "you bet your ass you do."

 

Connie had offered to drive to the bar three separate times throughout the day and seemed increasingly disappointed every time Armin refused the offer, saying instead that they should walk because the weather was nice.

The weather was, in fact, perfect, but Armin was no more keen on walking than Connie was. In reality, he knew walking would kill more time, and that's all he wanted. More time away from Jean. More time to feel healthy and whole. More time to breathe without suffocating in Jean's cologne. When he sighed, Connie shot him a sidelong glance which Armin shrugged off while avoiding eye contact. 

The walk to the pub was relatively silent. When words were spoken they were mostly from Connie who complained about everything in sight, especially the 'annoying brats without leashes' who ran past on their way to the boardwalk, giggling, while parents chased after them, shouting names and threats. 

"Please tell me you aren't one of those parents that leashes their kids," Armin gave Connie his best disapproving look.

"Dude, you'll understand when you have kids."

Armin smirked, "right. When I have kids. Rest assured I'll let you know when I develop a uterus."

Connie pulled a disgusted face has he held the door open. "Dude, gross."

"You're literally ten years old," Armin commented, moving past him and into the open door, "I swear to God."

Scoffing, Connie pressed a hand to his chest, mockingly offended. "I'm at least 13. Give me a break."

 

It didn't take long for Armin to spill his guts. Only a shot of whiskey and three beers later, Armin was a teary mess, and Connie served as his makeshift therapist.

"Alright, man," Connie began, "what's been up?"

"Remember that grave I dug for myself?"

Connie nodded, sparing a short glance over the rim of his glass.

"Well, it's about halfway filled and I've stopped trying to dig my way out."

Connie remained uncharacteristically quiet, only excusing himself to retrieve two more beers. "Alright," he pushed them both Armin's way. "Spill your guts to Papa Connie."

Armin gripped one of the new glasses firmly. The frosted glass began to sweat immediately beneath his clammy palms. "I fucked up," he whispered, "I'm a shitty person. And I fucked up."

Armin's head pounded.

He sniffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand before Connie shoved napkins into his free hand. The other still held the glass in a death grip. 

"I had him Connie," his voice broke, but he no longer cared. Connie hardly seemed fazed as he listened contently, eyes wide and attentive. "I had Eren. He loved me. It was perfect."  Armin's face pinched at the threat of new tears. Minutes stretched like days before he was ready to speak again.

"It was perfect because I had him, and he was Eren Jaeger, unfailingly perfect. There- I- I can't think up enough words to describe Eren Jaeger, Connie. I don't think there are any words suitable enough to be used on him." The smile on Armin's face was weak at best, but it was real nonetheless. "We were officially a couple for two months, you know. During those two months, I understood why fairy tales were written."

"All those happily ever after endings just made sense because there couldn't be anything but happily ever after with Eren. There was no room for sadness or hurt. He made it better. All the time. Every single time he was just there. He didn't even have to say anything, you know? There would be nights that I just sat on that stupid love seat in his stupid living room and cried because I was so worried he'd leave me over the mess I made for us both. But you know what he'd do?"

Connie shook his head slowly. 

"He would hold my hands until they stopped shaking," Armin squeezed the napkins in his hand firmly," and he would lift my chin and he would say 'Armin, it's going to be okay. It's going to be okay because we're together, and I wouldn't want to be anywhere but here, with you. Do you trust me?' and I would nod, and he would say 'good. Because I'm trusting you.' He should've never trusted me, Connie." 

Armin's voice shook and dropped to a gravely whisper. "He trusted me. And I left him. I left him." His lips trembled. "I left him."

"It was good though? The relationship. It was a good one?" Connie asked softly.

Silently, Armin nodded.

"What made it so great?"

The grain of the wooden table top suddenly became interesting, and Armin couldn't move his eyes from it. He felt his cheeks heating at the bubbling memories of he and Eren together. Being happy. Being loving. Being together.

"So many things."

"Tell me about it."

"We went ice skating once," Armin offered.

Connie smiled and urged him to continue focusing on the good. "Only once?"

"Only once," Armin confirmed with a shaky smile that reached his watery eyes, "Eren fell more than he actually skated, but every time he fell he'd say he didn't mind."

"Why's that?" Connie leaned across the table intently focused on what Armin had to say.

For once in a long time, Armin didn't feel like he was a burden. Talking became increasingly easier. The alcohol untangled his tongue.

"Because," he explained, "every time he fell, he got to hold my hands when I pulled him to his feet. We'd just end up standing there on the edge of the ice, hand in hand, laughing at how many times he'd fallen or how ridiculous we looked with our red faces, watery eyes, and runny noses. We looked like the definition of disaster. But, we'd just stand there. Happy and clinging to each other's presence like there was no one else there to see it."

"That's..." Connie, for once, was speechless. Words failed him until he laughed and shook his head, "dude, that's kinda gay."

Armin giggled, lifting the glass he'd been squeezing mercilessly and pressing it against his lips.

"Very," he agreed, running his tongue along his lower lip and frowning. "We were perfect."

The choking sobs that had held him victim for three days straight were gone now by some miracle, only to be replaced with a haunting empty feeling with traces of bitterness. He'd lost Eren.

Armin hummed to himself. 

Connie pulled him from his own mind before he could bury himself deeper in the past. "Hey, I need to piss, alright? Drinks are getting to me."

As he slid out of the booth, Armin nodded. "Small stature, small bladder?" He asked with a thin smile.

"Shut the fuck up," Connie rolled his eyes dramatically, "you've got me beat by like an inch. That hardly counts."

Armin shrugged, "I don't know. An inch can matter."

Connie paused, considering the statement before scoffing and slapping Armin on the back. "And you said  _I_ was 13."

"I said you were 10," Armin corrected him.

"Shut up."

 

With Connie gone, the noise in the bar became much more unbearable. Armin was confused as to why there were so many people drowning themselves in one dollar tap beer on a Monday night. Maybe, he considered, the entire town was constructed of people too miserable to handle life without their bloodstream consisting of 30% alcohol.  Maybe they were all broken in the muggy coastal town, but too stubborn to leave. Too stubborn to do anything about it.

Armin understood.

"Hey!" A booming voice ripped him from his train of thought. Instantly, Armin jerked upright to see where the source was. He didn't have to look far.

A man stood just in front of his booth, blonde hair cut short with a shirt much too tight for his well built frame.

"I recognize you!" The man said, smile broad.

"Uh?" Armin squinted up at him. Suddenly, it all fell into place. He'd been one of Eren's friends at the table with the pretty girl from Eren's pictures. 

He was Eren's friend.

Armin's chest constricted, and he forgot how to breathe until his head felt light.

"Y-You okay, man? Do you need like a water or something?"

Shaking his head robotically, Armin took in a slow, deliberate breath. "No, I just," Armin chewed on his tongue, "I just remembered you, too, and I'm um- I can't- Eren and I, we don't."

"Eren isn't here," the man sat in Connie's side of the booth, "he's been holed up in his apartment since Friday."

Armin nodded, unbelievably relieved that Eren wasn't actually there, yet, at the same time, he couldn't fight the disappointment that boiled deep in his gut. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," Armin's gaze dropped, unable to meet the stranger's concerned gaze. He'd done this to Eren. He'd ruined him. He was a failure. 

"I'm Reiner, in any case," the blonde extended his hand, which dwarfed Armin's own when they shook.

"Armin."

"Oh I know," Reiner laughed, "trust me, I've been hearing that name a lot recently."

Armin scowled, "I assume you've only heard the bad things then?"

Reiner shook his head, eyebrows raised, "the opposite, actually. He has nothing but good things to say about you. Actually, he won't shut up about it, if I'm honest."

Guilt clawed at the lining of Armin's stomach and his hands shook when he knotted his fingers together.

"He won't?" Armin whispered.

"Nah," Reiner tilted his head back and downed half his glass, "you're all that goes through that head of his these days. According to him, the world revolves around you, I think."

Armin couldn't listen anymore. He didn't need this. 

"I need to go. I'm so sorry. I need to go," he whispered past the growing nausea that spread through his veins like wild fire and sparked in the forefront of his mind, "please tell Connie I'm fine and I want to walk home alone. Please tell him not to worry."

"Sure," Reiner agreed with a small pause, "who is he?"

Armin raked his hair with a trembling hand. Hair stuck to the cold sweat on his brow. "Short, dark skinned, loud. You can't miss him. Thank you. I owe you. Thank you so much."

 

The air was muggy and thick when Armin dashed into the open sky. His legs shook beneath his weight, heavy like lead. Walking home in his state would be damn near impossible. Defeated, desperate, and alone he pulled out his phone to dial Jean.

Because the phone had been turned off the entire day, Armin's missed calls had piled up to an astounding 18 with 7 new voice-mails. Naturally, Armin expected them to be from an irate Jean Kirschtein demanding him home immediately; reality was much worse than that.

Eren had called. 11 times with his cell, 6 times with his home phone. The single remaining call was from Jean. 

Though he knew he'd regret it, Armin immediately went to listen to the voice-mails.

There were six from Eren's mobile number. The first was a long extended pause, filled with static and the low mumble of something that sounded like soft classical music. The following voice-mail was much the same, but before Armin could delete it, a soft whimpering sound caught his attention. Immediately, he pressed the device closer to his face as if it would help to increase the volume. Finally, the whimper turned into a recognizable single word. 

"Armin," Eren whispered before the dial tone cut him short.

The second voice-mail bled into the third which consisted of Eren's shaky breathing and soft voice. "Armin?" Eren sounded so tired, and his voice rasped. "Armin, I hope you're okay. Don't let him touch you, okay? Don't you let him do anything to you. You tell me if he tries anything. You tell me, okay? I'm worried."

Armin began to wobble along the boardwalk on unsteady legs, guided by bleary eyes as the fourth message began to play. 

"I- I keep calling," Eren sniffled and cleared his throat loudly to disguise it, "I just want to hear your voice. I'm annoying, I know. I'm sorry. I'll stop."

The message stopped there, leading into the fifth.

"I miss having you here, Armin. I miss you reading to me and watching dumb reality shows like Toddlers and Fucking Tiaras while listening to your rants about the 'impressionability of young girls.' I miss you. I hope everything is okay where you are. I'm sorry."

Armin had to sit down by this point. His entire frame shook with the threat of tears broke him completely, and the sounds of the rumbling ocean filled his head and clouded his senses. The waves crashed violently in sync with the turmoil in his stomach. 

Finally, after another long, anxious pause, Eren spoke his final message to Armin before the calls had stopped. 

"I love you," he said, voice strong and steady, before hanging up the line. 

Armin dropped his phone onto the empty bench seat to his right, and made a mad dash to the side of the boardwalk. He practically dangled across the railing as he heaved the contents of his stomach into the water before sliding back down onto the wooden planks, a shaken disaster.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

He felt sick all over again. 

An hour had passed before he was finally able to call Jean for help getting home. 

He hated himself.

Eren loved him, but he fucking hated himself. 

 

His night was spent by lying on the couch while Jean sat silently in the kitchen, studying case files in the yellow artificial light of the ancient fixture that had been there since before they'd moved into the quaint home. 

"Do you need anything?" Jean asked, passing by the spot where Armin lay in order to seat himself in the recliner across the family room. The space between them was cold.

Armin shook his head. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure? I mean you were kind of sitting in your own vomit when I showed up. Do you need me to schedule an appointment with your doctor?"

"I'm okay, Jean. Really," he tried to smile, but it was physically painful and it fell away immediately. 

The men were silent, looking anywhere but at one another. The television remained turned off, and the only sound in the room came from cars passing by on the nearest street.

The silence thickened and even their steady breathing seemed too loud.

 

"Jean," Armin whispered, tangling his fingers in the blanket Jean had wrapped him in.

Jean pressed his lips into a hard line and raised his eyes as a silent response.

"Why-" Something felt caught in Armin's throat, and his voice hung midair. He cleared his throat forcefully, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Why are we together?"

Though his voice was small, Jean still winced. Frowning, he asked, "why do you ask?"

"I just wonder sometimes, I guess," Armin replied. As his anxiety built, his hands moved along one another more feverishly until the skin was red.

Jean's chair creaked as he tilted backwards, intently studying the popcorn ceiling. They'd always wanted to redo that ceiling together. As Armin followed Jean's gaze he noticed a hairline crack there which separated their two halves of the living room.

He'd never noticed it there before. 

"Because, I love you," Jean said shortly.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

Those words didn't sound right on Jean's tongue, and they caused Armin's frown to deepen. His nails dug crescents into his raw flesh. 

"Okay," Armin nodded weakly. His head lulled along the arm of the sofa until he'd completely pulled his eyes away from Jean; the back of the white leather sofa held his interest perfectly. He hardly noticed when Jean sighed.

"Yeah," Jean muttered, retreating back into the cold kitchen, returning to his case studies. 

Armin hesitated, heart hanging low in his terrorized stomach which rocked like the sea in a hurricane, "yeah."

 

Eren's next call came at 2 in the morning, ripping Armin from his restless tossing and turning. Eyes filled with sleep failed to read the name on the caller ID, and Armin accepted the call before his brain caught up with his actions. 

"Armin?" Eren sounded surprised. Armin's sleepy state fell away instantaneously. 

Hauling himself off of the sofa, Armin stomped across the living room, slung the patio door wide open and stepped out before slamming it closed. His entire body shook: a combination of misery and giddy excitement at hearing Eren's voice washed over him.

He sat slowly, and when he spoke his voice was nothing more than heavy breathing. He was tired.

"What is it, Eren?" The threat of tears pinched his voice until it was unbearably squeaky.

Embarrassing. 

"I-," Eren huffed, "I don't know. I didn't think you'd answer. I just wanted to hear your voice, I think."

Head hanging low, Armin shoved his hands violently through his knotted hair, feeling strands being ripped away from his scalp. "I don't know what to say to you, Eren," he whimpered.

Eren sighed, and Armin ground his teeth together.

"You have to leave me be. I can't- we can't do this. You need so much better, and I deserve so much worse, and you trying to talk to me isn't helping either of us. I am no good for you, Eren Jaeger. Don't you understand that?"

"I wish I did," Eren seemed to be on the verge of tears himself as if the situation wasn't bad enough. 

"Leave me alone," Armin rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand, hard enough to bursts of color behind his closed eyelids.

Eren cleared his throat, "I can't do that, Armin. I'm not going to give up on you. You need to know someone out there loves you, so know you have me, and I'm not letting you go. Not because of this. Not like this."

"Well," Armin's voice barely made a sound as it was trapped somewhere deep inside his chest, cowering, "you should consider it."

"Not a chance."

Eren hung up first, leaving Armin to stare at the thinly wooded area behind his house that wasn't home until it was painful to keep his eyes open. It was cold, drizzling, and the sun sat on the horizon before Armin finally fell victim to a restless sleep. 

 

The glass door scraping against its tracks startled Armin awake when Jean peaked his head outside with a look that was equal amounts confusion and worry.

"Armin?" He asked, pulling the door open wider. He stood his pyjamas and shivered against the open air. "What are you doing out here?" 

"I couldn't sleep," Armin's throat felt raw and his skin was clammy and wet in the early morning air. Dew misted his hair and made his ill-fitting sleeping shirt cling to his skin uncomfortably, "I just got sick again and needed some air."

Jean frowned. "Since when do you come out here when you feel sick?"

"Well, I thought it would help," Armin said on the defense. 

"Did it?"

"No."

The subject dropped away.

"I made coffee, if you want it," Jean offered before ducking back into the living room.

"Thanks."

Healthy conversation had always been limited between the two men. Now, it was just damn near impossible. 

Jean nodded and pulled the door closed, leaving Armin on his own.

 _He loves me,_ Armin reminded himself as he forced himself onto unsteady legs.  _I'm here because he loves me._

 

Armin changed into his work clothes in the guest room, avoiding their bedroom at all costs. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually slept in there. Every time he did, he could only see Eren's form in Jean's place. Never before had he realized how eerily similar they looked, and the realization struck him painfully; since then, he could no longer share a bed with Jean.

He couldn't take the guilt and the yearning for Eren to really be there. He couldn't.

 

Jean's clothes seemed loser on him as he paced around the kitchen, newspaper in hand; it was almost as if he was being consumed by the work he'd become so involved with. Was he even eating anymore? Armin didn't know.

Armin pressed his mug to his lips to hide his ever growing frown in scalding liquid. Jean had always been a whiz in the kitchen, able to maneuver from never bitter coffee to dishes deserving of a Michigan Star with ease. Still yet, Armin would have preferred a cup of Eren's shitty coffee which tasted something similar to battery acid.

Downing a large mouthful, Armin scorched his tongue and throat as an excuse to avoid speaking. Jean seemed to do the same when he winced, painfully obvious.

"Any plans I should know about today?" Jean sat his newspaper on the counter top, as he rubbed away invisible stains on the rim of his mug. 

"Work," Armin muttered. His entire mouth felt numb and singed; one word answers felt justified. "Sleep."

Jean made a soft sound of acknowledgement. "So I shouldn't have to expect picking you up a mile away from a shitty bar while you're drunk and unable to help yourself?"

"Be prepared for the worst," Armin muttered irritably, moving to place his mug in the kitchen sink which was stacked high with dishes neither man felt like washing.

"Armin."

Armin whirled around at the mention of his name, only to find Jean nearly pressed against him, Armin's back was pressed firmly into the corner of the counter top. 

He tried to back up nervously. His palms began to sweat. 

"Jean," he whispered hoarsely, unsure.

Armin flinched with Jean's hand came to rest gently against his forearm. Jean didn't miss it, and his eyes flicked away with guilt. How had they let this relationship grow so out of hand?

"We- we're okay, yeah?"

Armin didn't have an answer. He knew they weren't okay, and he was sure Jean knew the same thing. There was no use in lying. Instead, in lieu of words, Armin grabbed Jean's tie in a tight fist, pulled Jean toward him, pressing a kiss onto his lips. 

When Armin released his grasp on the now wrinkled tie, Jean's face was a stunned mask of confusion. His cheeks were stained pink and his wide eyes shone brilliantly in the morning sun which seeped through the poorly covered window. 

Nothing. There was no spark there. Just the feeling of skin on skin. Armin felt his shoulders slump.

"Jean," he whispered, "I need you to tell me you love me."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it. Just do it before I go crazy, and I leave right now. Please, Jean."

Never once had Armin thought his life would come down to begging to be told he was loved, yet here he sat in the kitchen of the house he hated with the man he was having to relearn to tolerate, just begging for those three words which would never be enough to keep him satisfied. 

"I- I love you?"

The statement was pitched as a question, and something in Armin's chest twisted sharply. 

"Okay, Jean," Armin whispered, pushing his way past Jean, making his way for the front door. "I'll see you tonight. Don't work too hard, alright?"

"Always do," Jean replied. His tone had lifted and his lips were quirked into a smile that Armin hadn't seen in ages.

He looked away uneasily, "I know."

 

 _Jean cares about me, Eren_ , Armin's mind practically screamed as he slammed the front door shut, creating a great divide between Jean and himself. The wood vibrated in the threshold upon impact.

 _And I love you,_ Eren's voice replied from some repressed section in the back of Armin's bustling mind.

Defeated, Armin hung his head as he walked to work, muttering the words "I love you more" over and over until his burnt mouth became numb and the burden in his heart became less heavy. He considered calling Eren three times during his walk, but each time was able to talk himself out of it.

He has a family. He has friends. He has that girl.

"And I love you so much more."

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connie and Reiner work alongside Eren to win back Armin's love. Armin and Jean will never be okay, and Armin has finally come to terms with the fact that their relationship was doomed from the day he met Eren Jaeger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one starts out a little bit different than the rest, and I'm sorry for that! Jut a lot of things are organized behind Armin's back so I wanted a little bit of Eren's perspective to clarify what was going on, so the first 600 words are brought to you by Eren!
> 
> Also the rating changed this time. It's explicit now. Oops. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! There's gonna be one more chapter, guys (I think). AH. I can't believe we've made it this far.
> 
> ALSO HERE IS EREN AND ARMIN'S SONG FOR THE CHAPTER:  
> [You're the Only Place I Call Home - Every Avenue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xG4UFwQ59Q)

The loud knocking at Eren's front door wouldn't fucking stop. 

" _Go away,_ " he screamed at the offending noise for the one thousandth time.

"Open the god damn door, Jaeger," Reiner yelled for the one thousand and first time. 

"Isn't that a Panic! At the Disco song?" Eren's head hurt. 

When Eren made no effort to move, the knocks at the door became thundering kicks which were probably cracking and chipping the ancient paint job. Eren groaned. Reiner continued to assult the door.

This had been going on for nearly an hour. 

Finally, with much vocal complaining and an embarrassing amount of drunken stumbling, Eren managed to clamor his way to the door and sling it wide open, revealing a satisfied Reiner and a short man with dark skin and wide eyes. 

"Who the hell is this?" Eren asked before feeling the slight draft from the outside on his bare skin. Looking down, he realized he wore only boxers and not much else. "And where the hell are my clothes?"

Eren abandoned the door, opting to wander into his apartment on the hunt for anything to cover his dignity with. 

"Dunno, man," Reiner said, entering the apartment and slamming the door closed behind him. "But we're all hoping you find them soon."

"Fuck you," Eren breathed in Reiner's direction as he shoved past him on his way to his bedroom, though he hadn't meant to stumble over his own feet on his way out of the living room, he did. So much for dramatic effect. 

After a long delay that involved Eren splashing his face with cold water and changing into something decent, he reappeared in the living area feeling only slightly less hungover than before. Reiner sat splayed across the sofa, taking up all three cushions, beer in hand. The other man stood by the arm, arms crossed over his chest.

"Reiner," Eren prompted, seating himself on the love seat, "why is the last airbender in my house?"

"You should be thrilled to meet him," Reiner chuckled. A mischievous light brightened his eyes.

Shaking his head, Eren shrugged, "not a big anime fan, man."

Reiner rolled his eyes while Aang shifted his weight, standing up straighter without uttering a word.

"His name is Connie Springer," Reiner said before tilting his beer back.

Eren shrugged, "is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"It should," Reiner kicked his legs around to face forward and propped his elbow on his knees. The can in his hand bent around his fingertips, "he's Armin's friend."

"And," Connie spoke finally, jabbing a thumb into his chest, "I'm your one surefire ticket back into Armin's life."

Eren look at him bewildered. His mind was foggy and his brain physically ached and pounded. "You're willing to help me?" Eren was skeptical at best.

"I'm here to help Armin, which in turn will help you. But, if it helps, I like you a lot better than Jeanboy." Connie scowled, "dude makes my skin crawl, and I'm putting my foot down for Armin's sake."

"Anyway," Reiner interrupted, "I'm going to be here for one week tops before being deployed back for another six month tour. We have to work fast, so there's no time for anymore dumb questions, Jaeger. You in or not?"

Eren laughed, scratching at the nape of his neck. Shaking his head, shoulders slumped he asked, "where do we start?"

"The newspaper," Connie said simply.

Reiner and Eren nodded. 

"Lead the way, tiny man," Reiner said, standing to retrieve another beer in preparation for a string of long nights. 

Eren smirked. "Let's fucking do this."

 

"Ar _MIN!_ " Sasha bellowed from clear across the street as Armin approached the Trost Daily office.

"Hey Sasha!" He tried for cheery and chipper. Failed. The feeling of Jean's lips still burned against his own; subconsciously, he rubbed his fingers over his mouth as he walked. 

"Something strange came in the mail today," she exclaimed breathlessly as she ran to close the distance between them. 

Amin frowned. "Have you already called the police?" He asked, unsure of what she was expecting him to do about it.

Throwing her head back with laughter that shook her to the core, Sasha swatted at Armin's arm playfully. "No, you doofus, it's a good kind of strange." Her smile was lopsided and her hair was wild, strands sprang from her loose ponytail as she began to drag him closer to work. 

Before Armin could squeeze a word in, Sasha continued in her explanation of the good strange thing in the mail. "It's an Ask Alice letter! You know, that advice column that died like four years ago? Yeah. Someone wrote to it. Wanting advice. From us. Armin. It was for love advice, too. That's what Connie told me, anyway. Can you believe it? No one has written this place in years.  _Years!_ "

"Oh," Armin commented, completely apathetic. He had enough of his own problems to worry about. 

"Oh is right! I haven't even told you the best part though," Sasha was practically bouncing out of her own skin. Her hands shook as she held the door open for Armin to pass through. 

Armin sighed and stepped through the threshold. He should've called in sick. "Of course you haven't."

Sasha giggled and bumped hips with Armin when she caught back up to his side. "Don't be such a grump," she chided, "Shadis says we get to vote on who answers it, since, you know, we haven't had to have any advice columns in  _years_."

Armin nodded, "if that person knew who they were entrusting their problems to, they'd probably think again about asking."

Sasha rolled her eyes. "Did Jean piss in your coffee this morning or something?

"Something like that," he replied, moving to join the crowd that had formed in the story pitch room. Shadis stood at the head of the room, and once his eyes caught Armin, he spoke.

 

"Alright, everyone shut the hell up and let's get this over with," he instructed. Everyone in the small mob silenced instantly. 

"Who are we nominating, guys?" Sasha asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Shadis, though he did sigh, made no action to stop Sasha from taking on his leading position.

"Armin," Connie answered before Sasha had even finished her question; the enthusiastic gasp she gave in response made Armin shrink into himself. 

Armin shook his head. "No."

"Aw," Sasha pouted, "you're so smart though, Armin! And you're really good at helping people."

"So is Connie," Armin countered.

"Dude," Connie shook his head, "my love life has been smooth sailing since the day I left the womb. I got nothing to help them out."

"Also, Arlert," Shadis offered, "you were hired as Alice originally, don't forget that."

Sighing, Armin dragged his hands across his face, nails leaving soft pink trails across his sensitive skin. "I wrote three advice articles at most," he groaned.

"Three more than the rest of us," Connie pushed stubbornly.

Armin shot him a venomous glare. He wished looks could kill. 

"We don't have anymore time to waste on this. All in favor of Arlert talking to the lovesick kid?"

Everyone in the room raised their hands as Armin pushed himself into the far corner of the room, arms practically locked across his chest rigidly, protectively. 

"It's settled then. It's all yours."

As people exited the room, Sahdis passed and shoved the envelope into Armin's chest.  "Go nuts, kid," he said as he moved towards his office. 

"Right," Armin breathed. 

 

Armin had to read the letter four times to even begin to understand what in God's name he was getting himself into. The spelling was horrid, the grammar was lacking, and the thing was handwritten in the worst penmanship he'd ever seen in his life. Past that though, the letter was relevant to a point where it should have been scary, which only made Armin want to keel over and die. 

 _Alice,_ it read, omitting spelling errors and grammatical travesties,  _Please help me because I'm completely lost._

_Have you ever thought you were destined to be miserable? Like, your entire life was based around bad events that would lead to nothing other than an unhappy end? I felt that way for 29 miserable years of never being good enough and always being overlooked. No talents. No skills. I can't even read, dude (or lady.) But then, someone wonderful stumbled into my life. He had galaxies in his eyes, and the sun was put to shame by  how bright his personality was. In a single night, my world was flipped around and everything I'd ever known about destiny and life and happiness changed. He was wonderful, and he was mine._

_You may have noticed that I keep using the past tense. Well, there's a reason for that, and that's why I need your help. Our relationship wasn't stable or healthy. He was with someone who treated him like a right rather than a privilege, and by some cruel turn of events, he went back to that pile of horse crap. I don't know why, and I'm not really sure what I did to push him away. I'm determined to win him back over though because he was everything that mattered to me. I need his laugh and the feeling of his head on my shoulder as we waste the night just talking about nothing. I miss him. I love him._

_I need your help._

_Signed,_

_Determined_

 

Breathing was difficult. Thinking was tiresome. Armin couldn't read the handwriting anymore past the tears that welled in his eyes, so, taking the logical approach, he locked himself in the bathroom for hours, clutching the the letter to his chest. 

He was going to murder Connie. 

 

Once everyone had left and the office was clear, Armin stumbled out of his hiding place and immediately trekked home, avoiding all forms of public transportation. Despite the rain, he walked on with the letter tucked securely in his coat pocket. It remained balled in the warmth of his hand until he came home to an empty house.

Jean was working late again, he supposed. 

 

Armin found himself rooted to the sofa for three hours before Jean arrived home. When he heard the car pulling along the gravel, he cringed, forcing what little attention he could spare back to his laptop. He'd tried again and again to write a reply to the ask Alice letter, but nothing worked, and words refused to aid him now. He was only left with raw emotion and a dull ache in the pit of his chest where his heart sat, completely drained.

He was tired.  

 _Dear Determined,_ Armin typed as Jean entered the house and walked past him without a word on his way to their bedroom. Armin's eyes trailed after Jean's retreating figure before he rolled them.

_I think everyone has felt the way you have; miserable and not good enough. But, depending on another person for worth and happiness will lead you down a hole you just can't escape from.  _

Armin's gaze darted to their closed bedroom door. Jean slammed drawers and closet doors behind it. 

_Trust me. I know. Look, if you really want my advice, here it is: don't let anything stop you from winning this person back over, but don't let it destroy you. Maybe this person just feels obligated to their partner, and can't physically leave. Maybe they're scared of leaving, or worry about newness and change. Maybe they're just needing your help._

_Whatever the case may be-_

"Hey," Jean said from the threshold of the bedroom door, "you look really focused."

Armin looked over his screen and pulled his cheap, replacement reading glasses down, pinching the indention they'd left in the bridge of his nose. He nodded and gave a thin smile. "I was."

Jean nodded and walked over to examine the screen when his eyes dropped to the letter in Armin's lap. "How the fuck did you read this?"

"A lot of time and patience," Armin explained.

"Is it for work?" Jean asked. Suspicion was clear in his voice.

"It's for work, Jean. I'm not writing love letters while you're away."

Jean seemed to take the answer for what it was worth because he only shrugged and lumbered into the kitchen without protest. 

 _Whatever the case may be,  _Armin continued in his writing,  _please remember that that boy probably misses you more than you can possibly imagine. So fight for him. Fight._

_-A_

 

Jean never reappeared from the kitchen that night, even after Armin had submitted his article for publishing the next day and announced he was going to sleep around 11 pm. He only gave a grunt of acknowledgement. 

 

Armin slept for five hours that night. That was the most sleep he'd gotten in weeks.

He was almost positive he was unraveling at the seams.  

 

The following morning, Armin awoke to find that Jean had never actually joined him in bed during the night. It was the first time he'd slept in that room for months despite Jean's constant asking and prodding, and once he'd finally caved, Jean was no where to be seen. Armin tip-toed through the silent house on red alert, almost concerned about what may have happened to his partner. The concern left him in an instant when he heard the snoring from the sofa, originating from a lump of blankets.

Sighing, Armin padded over and nudged him awake. "Jean," he deadpanned.

Jean groaned in return, moving away from Armin's hand. Armin dropped it to his side in an instant.

"I'm going to make breakfast, do you want anything?" Domesticity just felt wrong under these circumstances. The anonymous Ask Alice letter was tucked in the pocket of his pajama bottoms and seemed to burn when it bumped his thigh.

It reminded him of Eren; he had no choice but to keep it. He'd fallen asleep reading the thing, the words were practically seared into his mind, yet he still needed to cling to it. 

Jean grumbled something incoherent and shook his head, so Armin shrugged. 

"Okay, Jean," he muttered, "I'll have the coffee ready for you, alright?"

"K," Jean breathed. His jaw seemed to clench when he buried his face into the lumpy pillow he clung to.

Armin's hand slipped into his pocket and squeezed the folded paper there. The edges were already soft and worn.

"Okay." 

 

"More letters!" Sasha all but screamed at Armin once they'd unfortunately come face to face. It was too early for this kind of excitement.

He frowned. "From different people?"

Sasha shook her head, but Connie was the one who answered, piping up from somewhere behind the maze of cubicles. "Trust me, dude, it's the same guy." He paused. "Or girl, I guess."

Connie looked tired when he finally located his wife and friend, mug in hand, and it was immediately noticeable; he slouched more, ate less, and talked even lesser still. Hell was probably freezing over. There really wasn't any other logical explanation. 

"How do you know?" Armin questioned.

"No one could ever copy that handwriting," he reasoned.

Armin relented. Connie was right.

 

Three new letters had arrived in the post that day.

 

Letter one was simple, and to the point, reading:

 

_Hey Alice,_

_It's me again. It's been four days since I last saw him. Got any advice yet? I kind of feel like I'm being drown in ice water._

_I'll take anything you've got for me._

 

_P.S: I'm 99% sure he thinks I'm in love with my sister???_

 

_Signed,_

_Determined_

 

Letter two was much the same. 

 

_Alice,_

_I miss him a lot. Writing you is helping me, I think, because I'll get to see your reply in the paper today. And in that way, at least I'll be talking to him again. Does anyone ever ask if you need help, Alice? Everyone thinks you're so strong and dependable, but you break too sometimes don't you? I understand. It's okay not to be strong. I'm fighting for what I want. You're strong enough to fight, too. I'm fighting for him right now. As you read this, I'm fighting._

_Fight, fight, fight. Am I right?_

_Signed,_

_Determined_

 

The third letter ended the series for the day. 

 

_Hey._

_I love him. I'd scream it from the rooftops. Write it in the skyline. Blow it into a mountainside using live dynamite. I would do anything, just to show him he's loved. He can leave his crappy boyfriend and come to me and I would never stop adoring him. Never for a second. I don't look down on him for having obligations and fear. I wish I could._

_I love him, Alice._

_He knows I love him._

_I hope this proves it._

_I'd do anything for you-_

 

_Alice._

_Armin._

_I'd do anything for you._

_Signed,_

_You already know who this is._

 

Armin's heart kicked into overdrive for a split second. He couldn't focus on reading past the hammering in his chest and the blood rushing every brain cell and drowning them in tides of adrenaline. He felt Eren through the letters and his fingers trembled as they grazed over the lines of text.

There was a permanent grin painted on his face for the rest of the day, and when Connie saw it he only smirked and didn't offer a word. 

When the work day ended, Armin stuffed the letters in his pockets and watched as the others left before he retreated from the office himself. 

Connie, Armin noticed, walked in the opposite direction of his own home. 

Armin hummed and turned, having to fight the urge to skip on the journey back home. The papers in his pocket sent sparks jolting through his skin. Through the rain and ever present fog, Trost sparkled in Armin's eyes. 

 

Armin took all of two minutes to respond to Eren once he'd settled into the cold leather sofa. He sat in darkness as he typed.

 

_Dear Determined,_

_He loves you, too. Understand he loves you too._

_-A_

 

There were no letters on Wednesday. No calls either. The office was a shell of boring people typing boring emails on computers which hardly functioned. Wednesday was a slow day. The only thing that got Armin through was the fact that he knew Eren would be reading his reply as Alice that day. It had been published and now all of Trost knew they loved one another in a warped kind of way. The thought made Armin's heart flutter and his stomach leap. 

Wednesday was slow, yes. But, Armin powered through like he had every day before Eren and every day after. He survived despite the sinking feeling in his gut and the pressing headache. The burning in his chest refused to go away no matter how many heart burn pills he swallowed.

He figured they weren't effective on heartbreak, but it never hurt to try.

Though Armin had thought he was miserable at work, the troubled feelings only tripled once he was sat at home all alone. He wondered how he'd coped before having Eren. In all honesty, he couldn't remember how he'd held his relationship with Jean down for so long. He couldn't remember how he'd fooled himself into believing they were just like the other couples.They were happy. They were healthy. Normal. Perhaps he'd been without happiness for so long, he just didn't realize he needed to pursue it. He didn't know he'd needed an escape.

If only he'd known.

 

The crack in the ceiling had become noticeably larger, now stemming into three separate breaks. Armin sighed. 

Jean came home right on time at 7:02 pm, leaving them together for tediously long hours that lacked all forms of conversation and contact. Maybe the silence became too much for Jean after three hours of mind numbing reality television, or maybe he just really wanted to talk, either way, he was the first one to crack and break the silence.

"You know, Armin. I'm surprised you're still here," he said, barely turning in his seat to look at Armin. His voice was strained.

Armin looked puzzled, but Jean gave him no room for questions as he continued rambling, "you're never here for more than three nights in a row before you're with Krista, or fucking around with that idiot Connie into ungodly hours of the night."

Frowning, Armin burrowed into himself, feeling ill. He kept his gaze trained on the television, steadfastly interested in the current commercial about colon health. "We had a falling out," he muttered past the blanket which he held at his lips.

"A falling out," Jean repeated incredulously.

"Yes," Armin said, standing, "as in they want nothing to do with me. I'm going to sleep."

Jean rolled his eyes so dramatically Armin could practically hear it.

Armin slammed the guest bedroom door closed and stuck his tongue out at the door.

The night was silent.

 

On Thursday, Armin, again, was not greeted by an eager Sasha announcing the arrival of letters. His heart sank deeper to mingle with his other vital organs with each step he took towards is cubicle. The lamp on his desk, which he never used, was turned onto its brightest setting.

Armin looked around the room suspiciously, half expecting Connie to pop out with the intention of scaring the hell out of him. He'd done it before. 

The surprise that sat on his desk was much more pleasant. A large cup of coffee sat on top of mountains of paperwork, and as Armin neared it, he noticed that the cup was placed on the corner of a neon post-it note.

Armin recognized hand writing on the note immediately, causing a bizarre squeaking noise to barely squeeze past his lips.

_Does he love me enough for a coffee date tonight?_

 

 

Tears sprang into Armin's eyes. His right hand was clamped firmly over his mouth to avoid anymore unwelcome noises. Connie poked his head in, expression concerned.

"You okay, man?"

Armin nodded much more vigorously than necessary, and he thought he heard his own neck crack. Connie smirked and nodded much more slowly, and safely; when he turned away he dialed someone on his mobile.

"We didn't even need the whole week," Connie said into the phone, stupidly giddy and overly confident. He paused as the stranger on the other end replied.

Their combined barking laughter made Armin smile wider. He drew out his own cell phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found Eren's number. He wasn't sure what to say.

They'd gone for coffee on their very first unofficial date. Armin had been at a loss for words then, too. 

Really, it was almost like starting over. Chewing the inside of his cheek, Armin wrote five different messages. They were either too cheesy, too clingy, or just flat out bland.

Finally, he had to settle as his time was dwindling.

 

**To: Eren**

**Only if you buy him a medium white chocolate mocha with extra whipped cream.**

 

 

Armin found it hard to concentrate on anything but his phone as he attempted to busy himself with actual work. Time passed and no reply came. Their chat bubbles remained stagnant until 3 that afternoon. 

 

**From: Eren**

**ill buy him 2 and make them large if he can meet me right after work.**

 

Armin giggled an embarrassing, girly, laugh while shaky fingers tapped out a simple reply. 

 

**To: Eren**

**You have a deal.**

 

His hands didn't stop shaking and the stupid grin never dimmed or faded. Even when Sasha prodded him with questions and Connie only watched and smirked, he only felt brighter. Armin no longer felt like the walking dead, and Connie seemed to be back to his usual obnoxious self despite the tired look in his eyes.

He was happy. The world was in technicolor.

Armin elected not to tell Jean he was going out that night, and when five o'clock rolled around, he was the first out the door. 

He was doing it for the promise of two coffees, he assured himself. 

 

On his way to Mina's Coffeeshop, Armin stopped in front of two different department stores to check his reflection in their over-sized windows. His hair was a disaster, his glasses dropped too low on his nose, his clothes were much too big for his slender frame, and he was pretty sure there was a zit forming on his forehead. 

This was actually worse than his first date with Jean when he was literally bumped by a taxi on his way to dinner. Looking back on it, he really should've taken that as a sign from the heavens that the date was just a bad idea.

He didn't think he'd ever learn. 

 

Mina's was warm and inviting. The walls, a deep chocolate brown, felt like home and the friendly chatter was much more soothing compared to the angry yelling at bar where Jean prefer to spend his free time. 

The soft yellow lights that hung over tables gave warm, welcoming vibes, while the yellowing light at home only gave Armin headaches. 

Armin didn't have to look around long before spotting the only individual he cared to find.

 

The sight of Eren sitting alone in their usual back corner table made Armin's heart stop completely. He didn't know whether to smile, laugh, cry, or run screaming. His mind chose all four options and preformed them simultaneously. 

When their eyes locked, the tears fell. 

Eren's chair scraped against hard linoleum loudly, but he didn't seem to care about the disapproving looks patrons shot his way as he paced in Armin's direction, arms spread wide.

"You came," he said, crushing Armin into his torso. Armin's face was nuzzled deep into Eren's chest, and his tears stained the creme colored fabric. Eren dug his nose into the top of Armin's hair. People openly stared, and Armin only laughed, wrapping his arms around Eren's waist.

"Of course I came, Eren." He looked up cautiously, sure not to bump Eren's face with his head, "I don't stand up the fishes, and I don't stand up coffee."

Eren huffed and led Armin to their table. "Well, Christ, Armin. You should've told me that a week ago." 

Armin offered a thin lipped smile and seated himself, unable to look away from the table even when Eren pushed a large cup under his nose. 

"I have some questions for you," Armin said softly. Their table was the furthest away from the others, still he felt the need to whisper.

Eren moved in closer, elbows propped on the table top. The skin around his eyes was dark, and the vibrant green there was now clouded and littered with glaring red veins. 

"What made you think of the newspaper? The Ask Alice column? You hate newpapers. You told me."

The smile that lit Eren's face made all the aging disappear, even if it was only for two seconds he seemed young. He looked his age. He looked perfect. Armin caught his lower lip between his teeth to hide his grin. "This is all thanks to Reiner," Eren admitted, finger tracing the grain of the table top, "he bumped into your friend, Connie, in Pixis'. You know, the bar where I went all knight in shining armor for you. Connie became the ringleader in all this. Reiner was a devout cheerleader. I did as I was told. Connie told me to jump, and I asked how high, because he promised to lead me to you. And well," he shrugged, "I guess he knows what he's doing after all."

"You doubted him?" Armin smiled, wrapping his hands around the cup Eren had offered him. It made sense why Connie looked so tired, and why he never walked to his own home. He'd been visiting Eren. 

Armin wondered why he'd ever doubted if his friends actually cared.

Hair fell in Eren's face as he nodded, almost bashful. "He looks like he's fifteen," Eren defended himself, "you can't blame me for having my doubts."

"So do I," Armin said, pushing his glasses up for the fifth time in under a minute. 

"What can I say, I like them young," Eren muttered.

"Okay," Armin said, "next question. You said I thought you were in love with your sister."

Eren hummed, amused. He couldn't hide the smile that threatened his lips. "Describe my lover for me, Armin."

Armin's heart sank. His gut pinched. His face was warm.  _Lover._

It was hard to talk past the dryness in his mouth and the rock in his chest, sharp and piercing, but he fucking did it. He did it for Eren. He did it because he had no choice. 

"Uh," his voice quivered, "really pretty. Oriental. Grey eyes. Black hair. Really nice smile. Kind of perfect, I guess."

When Armin looked up, through his eyelashes and bangs, Eren was scowling, face pinched. 

"What?" Armin rasped. 

"Sister," he replied, scowl breaking into a fond smile.

"Sister?" Head reeling, Armin shook his head. There was no way they were related. They were two very different races. It wasn't a logical way to approach the situation. He'd never even considered-

"Yeah," kicking Armin's foot beneath the table, Eren chucked, "some people have these things called siblings, and I happen to be one of those people."

"Eren," Armin sighed, "she's Asian and you're... not so much."

"Brilliant. You're right about that. But, have you heard of this concept called adoption?"

"I just. I- Eren. You have a sister." He bowed his head and laughed. "I've been worried over a sister."

Eren nodded, and ruffled Armin's hair across the table. "Correct. Next time just ask me this shit, dude."

Armin kept his head low, face flushed. He remained silent, and Eren did the same, lazily carding his fingers through Armin's hair seldomly to pass the time. "I still- but you- Eren. When we first met, you told me that you didn't mind dying or being hurt because it would 'bring her back to you'. I remember. I was so disappointed. Please don't tell me you're into incest."

"Technically," Eren said, "it would be incest."

Armin groaned.

"But," Eren continued, "I wasn't talking about Mikasa. That's a story for another time, alright? It's just kind of a personal one that uh- not here, yeah?"

"Not here," Armin agreed before they fell back into silence. 

 

After a few minutes of sitting and basking in one another's presence, a new air of relief surrounding the two, Eren tapped the cup Armin held clenched between unrelenting fingers, catching the blonde's attention. He looked up slowly.

"You look like you need more than two of these," Eren commented, "have you even been sleeping? Like at all?"

"Sometimes," Armin said, silencing himself as he sipped the lukewarm liquid. He'd forgotten it was even there, "when I physically can't stay awake any longer." Armin's fingertip traced the cup's lid. Briefly, he spared a look at Eren. He looked the same, only angrier. Eyebrows pulled down in intense concentration, eyes hard and focused. Laughing, Armin shook his head, "you're hardly one to talk though, Eren. You look pretty rough yourself."

Eren shrugged the comment away without much thought. "Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."

Armin remained silent. The pit of his stomach burned. He drown it in more of his drink. "I can't," Armin shook his head, "I can't make myself sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see you. Every time I dream, I dream of you. Every thought. Every moment of every night, you're there." Armin removed his glasses to rub at his irritated eyes, "I let this go on for too long, and I'm sorry. I never meant to put you through this. It's just, the first time I told you I loved you, I was drunk and you didn't get to hear all of it. I need to tell you all of it." 

Eren rested his hand, palm open against the tabletop, and hesitantly, Armin placed his much smaller, much paler, and slightly trembling hand in Eren's.

"Eren Jaeger," he began, "you have become the better part of me. The silver-lining. My storybook ending. Everything that's right in a dark world. The most perfectly flawed human being I've ever met. You are everything that matters in a bleak world. You're my hope. You're my strength, and my biggest downfall. You're," he gave a breathy laugh, "everything. It's terrifying."

After long moments of silent, deliberating thought, Armin finally scraped up just enough courage to meet Eren's eyes.

"I never meant to fall in love you," Armin's soft voice trembled. "I messed up somewhere along the way though." 

Armin swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat forcefully as Eren tightened his grip on Armin's hand. Armin found that the warmth of the soft touch sent fire coursing through his veins and sparked like a live wire somewhere deep in his chest.

"Come home with me, Armin." There was an undeniable pain hidden deep in Eren's eyes which he'd tried so hard to disguise. There was no way to hide a misery like that, though. Armin was hurting him all over again.

Armin shook his head slowly. 

"I can't," he said, "not tonight. I'm not asking you to trust me, Eren, because I don't even trust myself. But just give me a few days. I swear I can make this work. I can do it."

"I'll keep fighting for you." The bags under Eren's eyes looked brutal, casting dark shadows across his paling face.

Armin smiled, despite knowing it was a hopeless sort of grin. Slowly, he brought their hands to his lips and kissed along Eren's knuckles. 

"You've already won, you idiot." Armin pressed a kiss against Eren's lips when he stood. "You won. Now it's my turn to fight, alright?"

Eren nodded solemnly, and barely managed a worn grin. "Fight," he whispered.

"Fight," Armin said in return, pulling his hand free.

He felt Eren's eyes on his back as he went on his way home. Armin cradled the hand Eren had held against his chest, pressing it against his lips as he walked. 

 _Fight_.

 

Though Jean was home, he didn't ask where Armin had been. They remained cold and distant; Jean read silently, immersed in his work, and Armin shuffled into their bedroom, silently retrieving his largest suitcase from the top of the closet and beginning to pack away whatever clothes he could find. He knew he was at his bravest in this very moment and if he didn't prepare to leave now, he never would. He continued folding and piling clothes until he heard Jean's chair scrape against the tile floor, shortly followed by footsteps leading in his direction.

Immediately, Armin shoved the luggage beneath their bed and went about casually changing into his night clothes. 

He smiled at Jean when he passed, but his friendliness was returned with a hollow gaze and a movement that could barely pass as a nod. 

Once Jean had locked himself away in the master bathroom, Armin called a good night to him and moved into the guest bedroom for the night where he talked to Eren in hushed voices over the phone like teenagers afraid of being caught by their parents.

"A couple of days, right?" Eren asked, voice laden with fatigue.

"Maybe even less than that," Armin assured him, confident. 

"'M counting on it," despite the tired slur on his words, Eren sounded happy.

When he laughed, Armin's heart melted into his socks. He almost forgot Jean was in the room next door, and that his prison sentence wasn't quite over yet. Their phone conversation lasted until they both drifted to sleep with promises to fight and pleads to just hold on a while longer.

 

Armin was disheartened when he woke up to a dead phone and an unpleasant Jean who was silently cooking and burning everything he could find in the tiny kitchen. Putting on a brave face for the day, Armin hooked his phone up to the charger, pulled on whatever clothes he could find strewn around the room - the shirt was much too big to be his -, and plastered on his best smile. It was just another day. Jean was here and Eren wasn't, but he could change that. He knew he could.

He just had to figure out how. 

"Good morning, Jean," He said softly, taking his seat on his normal bar stool. Jean's newspaper was opened wide across the small counter top, and of all the articles that could catch his eye, the Ask Alice piece seemed to flash red. He sucked in a sharp breath when Jean stationed a mug of, what looked to be, tea directly on top of the print. 

 _He loves you too_ , it read. Armin's gaze dropped to the floor, and he bit the porcelain rim of the mug.

"Good morning," Jean finally repeated, his patience seemed to be thin already.

"Sleep well?" Armin asked, rolling the sleeves of his work shirt so that they didn't seem quite so over-sized. 

Jean paced around the kitchen, shrugging. "Sure. Well enough, I guess."

The conversation died away as quickly as it had been brought on. So, Armin forced his burnt toast down his throat in uncomfortable silence, and left before it could choke away all of his joy. "See you tonight?" He asked as he moved towards the door.

"Dunno," Jean said, collecting Armin's discarded plate from the counter top, "will you?"

"I don't have any plans," Armin said, stepping out.

"Alright." Jean turned towards the kitchen sink and said nothing more.

 

Armin went without Eren all day. The other man had left another coffee that morning though with a note reading "Sleep well?" It was bitter and had a kick similar to battery acid, but Armin knew Eren had made it from the heart so he drank it anyway.

Connie laughed at him every time he cringed with the cup pressed to his lips.

"Shut up, Connie," Armin would mutter.

"You're a lovesick idiot," Connie would reply. 

He wasn't wrong. 

 

Armin left the office early that day. He'd been doing nothing for a few hours anyway, so he figured he had nothing to lose in going to visit Eren at work for a while. 

Eren worked in a modestly sized sporting goods store just on the outskirts of the larger downtown area of Trost. Armin looked like a regular fish out of water, completely submersed in a sea of camouflage and burly men seeking out the ammo section and gun racks. When those men gave him sidelong glances, he hardly noticed.

Though he'd been on the hunt for Eren, it was Eren who spotted him first, startling him by grabbing his wrist and twirling him around. 

"Armin!" He exclaimed cheerfully, "what are you doing here?"

"Being completely lost," Armin admitted. "I'm skipping out on the last part of my shift, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to watch you be a responsible adult while I play hooky."

Eren smirked and rounded his register to pull his apron over his head, stuffing it behind the counter. "Actually," he said, combing his hair with his fingers, "I'm actually about to go on my last break."

"Want me to leave you alone then?" Armin asked. "I'm sure I can find something to do or someone to bother while you're gone."

"I have a better idea," Eren said, taking Armin's hand in his own before dragging him towards the back of the store. "If you're up for it," he added, propping the back door open.

Armin shrugged and ducked under Eren's arm. The door led into a large, deserted warehouse, stacked high with cardboard boxes on iron shelving coated in dust. "Truly beautiful,"  Armin commented, turning back to look at Eren. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Shut up," Eren laughed, pushing Armin back against the nearest shelving rig. "It's the best I have to offer," Eren muttered, pressing firm, open mouthed kisses along Armin's exposed neck. Teeth grazed the sensitive skin there making Armin's breath hitch and his hands find Eren's sides. 

Eren smirked and tangled his hands in Armin's hair, his knee cleverly situating itself between Armin's thighs.

"Eren," Armin whispered, eyes darting to the barely closed door just off to their right.

"Mm?" Eren hummed as he worked on sucking a deep bruise into Armin's shoulder where he'd pulled the work shirt away. "This is my shirt," he muttered, pulling away from Armin's skin just a fraction.

Armin whimpered when Eren pulled away. "You said you wouldn't notice if I stole some," he said softly.

"I like how my clothes look on you," Eren ran his tongue along exposed skin as he pulled the shirt away. "They look better when I take them off of you, though."

Armin managed a breathy laugh. "You're so l-lame," his head fell back, and thumped lightly against one of the cardboard boxes.

Eren nodded, hand brushing along the in-seam of Armin's slacks, groping confidently. Gasping, Armin squeezed his eyes closed, unable to stop his hips from lurching forward.

He found himself whispering, gasping, and squeaking Eren's name more times than he was proud of as Eren's steady hands stripped him of his every article of clothing with the exception of the unbuttoned dress shirt which hung loosely at his elbows. 

"This is hardly fair," Armin complained, eyeing Eren's work uniform.

"Later," Eren promise, kissing him hard on the lips, left hand trailing along Armin's abdomen until calloused fingers came in contact with Armin's quickly hardening state.

"Later won't come fast enough," Armin whispered, catching Eren's signature shit-eating grin. "Do not. I heard the joke in that, and you aren't allowed to use it."

Eren fell to his knees with a shrug. "It would've been a good joke," Eren said, voice heavy with mock disappointment. His hand moved along Armin lazily.

Rational thought was so far gone to Armin. It was a foreign concept which had packed its bags and left him high and dry when Eren's mouth found his most private of areas. Armin hissed curses through clamped teeth, fingers digging into Eren's scalp as the other man pinned his hips against cool metal, taking him in deeply and leaving sloppy trails with his tongue as he eased back. 

Eren's hands were pressed firmly into Armin's thighs, leaving angry red marks under his unforgiving grasp. Armin hardly minded, he only gripped Eren's hair tighter and pulled him in closer, riding out the high of his orgasm as quietly as he could manage. It was so loud to his own ears, the open expanse of the warehouse only made his every sound echo. He knew he should be embarrassed, but he couldn't find it in himself to care until Eren pulled away and pushed himself back onto unsteady feet.

Armin laughed in soundless heaving breaths as he changed back into his clothes at a snail's pace. "I just came down here to see you," he couldn't help the dopey smile on his face, "this wasn't supposed to happen. You suck."

Nodding, Eren flattened the collar of his shirt, attempted to tame his wildly mussed hair, and adjusted himself in his pants. "That was the plan."

"I can-" Armin nodded to Eren's crotch.

Eren shook his head, planting a kiss on Armin's forehead. "I have to work. We can set up an I-Owe-You system though."

Armin laughed and rolled his eyes. "Name the time and place.'

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Eren teased as he wrapped his arm around Armin's waist, leading him back onto the salesfloor. Every time their hips bumped, Armin's heart leapt.

 

Yeah, Connie was right, lovesick idiot was the title he deserved. He owned it proudly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Armin establish their feelings for one another once and for all, and Jean and Armin have some seriously tough times up ahead in the form of a nasty break up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm so so so sorry this update took so long I DIDN'T MEAN FOR IT TO HAPPEN. I just started school and all that jazz BUT I pushed this one out as quickly as I could. I finished and published it in the same day, so I'm sorry if the editing is a little lacking. I promise I'm doing another read through when I get home from work. Anyways! I hope you enjoy it and remember you can find me on tumblr at conniespiringer.tumblr.com to give comments and suggestions! Thanks for the support. omgomg.

Though he'd only planned to stay for a few minutes, Armin ultimately remained by Eren's side for the remainder of his shift. When seven o'clock drifted around, both men walked out into the bustling city hand in hand, fingers intertwined. For the majority of their time together, Eren remained relatively silent only making his presence known when he would squeeze Armin's hand with crushing pressure every so often.

Just beneath the shopping strip they wandered past, waves crashed against cement support walls. Children raced along the boardwalk in the distance, marveling at the large Ferris wheel and booths lit vividly under the heavy sky. The sun settled beneath the horizon, leaving the view littered with wispy grey clouds which dissipated into the overcoming darkness. Eren's wide eyes were trained on the heavens, mind a million miles away.

"Eren," Armin whispered, bumping his knuckles against Eren's hip. 

Eren hummed quietly in acknowledgement. 

"Are you feeling alright?" Armin found himself subconsciously rubbing small circles into the top of Eren's hand in a poor attempt at comforting the other man.

Clearing his throat, Eren shrugged. "I just feel like I should be worried."

"Worried?" Armin's face pinched. The humid air made his hair stick to the back of his neck and edges of his face uncomfortably, and he mussed it with his free hand, not failing to catch the amused grin that broke Eren's solace for just a fraction of a second.

"Worried," Eren confirmed, reaching to press a lock of hair back into place.

Nervously, Armin chewed on his lower lip. "Should I be worried because you're worried?"

Eren shook his head. "No, Armin. You have no reason to worry because of me."

"Well, then what's wrong?" Armin pressed, feeling his anxiety building as they neared the familiar string of apartment complexes.

Again, Eren squeezed his hand uncomfortably. "Eh," he rubbed the back of his palm across his mouth, "I'm worried I'm gonna get too happy. Grow too content with our mess. Or grow too close to you, only to have you leave again. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm used to being on the losing end of situations. That's what got me where I am now, but-" Eren shook his head, "I'm not too proud to admit that I'm scared, Armin. And I am. I've nearly lost everyone. I can't lose you for Jean again."

Armin noted that this was the first time Eren had ever referred to Jean by his name without coupling it with a joke. Quietly, he allowed Eren to lead him up the stairs to his apartment on the third story mulling over Eren's confession. A fresh pain burst in the center of his chest. He was hurting everyone; it'd gone too far, and they were all in too deep.

He could do nothing right, and it was becoming increasingly frustrating. As Eren pulled him inside, Armin tore his hand free and pushed the man flush against the nearest wall. The pictures that lined the walls rattled with the impact, and Eren's eyes flew open wide. 

"Eren," Armin whispered, face hidden deep in the fabric of Eren's work shirt wreaking of both sweat and earth. His voice was strong, but his hands trembled as he laced his fingers through tangled brunette locks and clamped a hold to Eren's upper arm. To steady himself he leaned in closely, chin barely propped on Eren's shoulder. Tears flooded his eyes. He had nothing to say and no way to make all the confusion end. 

Armin repeated Eren's name over and over until it lost all meaning while rolling off his tongue. He pressed kisses into Eren's skin, bathed in opaque shadows, to punctuate the name each time he spoke.  Eren's hands found Armin's hips, fingertips pressing into the flesh there with enough force to leave pale bruises, pressing their bodies together completely. 

Clumsily, Eren met Armin's mouth in an open mouth kiss. The sounds of teeth clicking and soft moans filled the interior of the apartment; some pictures fell off the nails the hung from and clattered on the hard linoleum each time they pressed violently against the wall. The kiss broke when Eren pulled back, head thudding against the wall. His breathless laugh made Armin's heart swell painfully large in his chest. 

"We need to go somewhere else before we break something," Eren commented, shifting out of Armin's grasp before taking his hand and leading him in the direction of the master bedroom.

"Since when are you afraid of destroying things?" Armin asked skeptically. Walking was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and he spoke through clenched teeth. 

Eren laughed, spinning on his heels and walked backwards into the bedroom, shrugging limply. "You got me," he sighed, yanking Armin completely inside the room before slamming the door closed despite the apartment being completely empty. He pressed a kiss against Armin's lips gently. "Though frantic wall sex may have its appeal, I don't think it's appropriate for us. Not now."

"Ah, romance," Armin smiled, sliding his hands beneath the hem of Eren's shirt. He traced the outline of every edge of his torso as Eren pulled him in tighter, pressing his lips to the top of Armin's head. In their proximity, Armin was no longer able to move his hands, instead they rest splayed against Eren's abdomen feeling every hesitant inhale and shaky release of breath.

"Armin," Eren breathed. Shivering, Armin spared a small glance upward. Eren's face was unreadable, crossed with more emotions than Armin would ever be able to count. 

"I love you," he responded without thought, biting the inside of his cheek. Though there was limited room, he found that his thumb was rubbing that familiar circular pattern again. Armin began to wonder if it was an action he used more to comfort himself; a reminder than Eren was there. Under his grasp. Feeling his touch. He was there. 

Eren's conflicted expression broke with the hints of a smile. "I love you, too, you dork."

"Now, there's no need to be rude about it," Armin chided as Eren lifted him off his feet and held him as if he were a newly wed bride. A strange warmth bubbled through Armin's veins and made his face feel like a flame. In order to hide his face, Armin went to work kissing along Eren's neck as if it was the most important task in the world until he was laid on his back and Eren stood above him, pulling his shirt over his head in one tugging motion. 

Armin found that it was damn near impossible to maintain eye contact as Eren hovered over him. Though giggling wasn't particularly great for setting the mood, he laughed anyway, and so did Eren as he kissed along Armin's jaw. 

"Hi," Armin whispered shakily, hands ghosting over the chiseled plane of Eren's back. 

Eren pulled back until their noses touched. "Hi," he replied, carding his fingers through Armin's hair and allowing it to fall though his fingers in a makeshift halo around his head. 

"Hi," Armin repeated breathlessly before pulling Eren's face towards his own and greeting him with a slow kiss which, in no time at all, blossomed into something much more heated and desperate with wandering hands, scratching nails, and needy pants and groans. 

Armin indulged himself in the feeling of Eren's mouth traveling down his bare skin as white-hot sparks shot through his system every time teeth with meet his most sensitive places. As Eren's tongue dragged along the inside of his thigh, he gasped and raised his hips, tugging on Eren's hair with unforgiving force.  " _Eren_ ," he pleaded, readjusting his grip on the hair between his fingers. He could practically hear Eren's smirk.

"Yeah?" Eren asked, fingers running along Armin's length tortuously. 

"I hate you," Armin hissed, groaning when Eren's hand pressed against his hips allowing for no movement. Helplessly, Armin covered his eyes with his forearm. 

"Oh, do you?" Eren raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Armin spat, refusing to look in Eren's direction, making him unprepared for when Eren's mouth washed over him.

Armin gasped and bit his hand to stifle the embarrassingly loud groan that followed. Eren hummed appreciatively while Armin weakly pulled at his hair, finding himself unable to speak anything other's than Eren's name. When Eren moved away, though, Armin did find it in himself to whine.

"What are you doing?" Armin muttered, sweat making his skin feel sticky as it dried. 

"Being prepared," Eren replied shortly before opening a bottle with a loud pop. Armin bit his lower lip and nodded with understanding. "It's kinda cold, sorry. I mean I can sit on it like a mother hen for a while, but-"

"Eren," Armin said, raising his hips slightly, "I'll be fine. Really."

"Someone's impatient," Eren commented off hand, rubbing his fingers together before spreading Armin's legs further apart and pressing a single finger against Armin's opening.

Armin gave a soft gasping sound and shivered, squeezing his eyes closed securely, "shut up."

"Not a chance," Eren whispered, pressing inside and kissing along the bared expanse of Armin's stomach as he hitched and groaned.

Eren moved his hand tortuously slow, drinking in every breathless, needy noise Armin allowed him to hear.

"Tell me what you want," Eren said, voice sugar sweet. Armin whined. "You have to tell me," he encouraged, teasing Armin with the second finger.

"Eren," Armin's voice shook violently beneath his hushed whisper. His eyes were heavy lidded, and his face was flushed a brilliant scarlet.

"Armin," Eren replied evenly, nipping at his exposed collarbone has he slid the second digit in. 

Breath catching, Armin hissed and bit his lower lip until his mouth tasted of iron. 

"You alright?" Eren asked as he moved his fingers carefully, angling them until-

Armin cried out and bucked his hips, head falling to the side with his mouth opened lazily. "F-fuck," he panted, barely able to open his eyes past the hazy euphoria of his mind, "I need you in me now, Eren Jaeger."

"Technically I already am," Eren smirked, allowing his hand a shallow thrust which made Armin whine and inhale his lip between his teeth.

"Don't make me beg," Armin pouted in a lame attempt at pushing himself onto Eren's stilled hand.

"Would you?" Eren asked simply, pulling his fingers out gently. 

"In a heartbeat."

"Shit," Eren muttered, scrambling to lather himself with the lube he had actually been resting against until it was pleasantly warm. Once he'd aligned himself he tapped Armin's hip gently. "Ready?"

" _Eren,_ " Armin sighed exasperatedly and squirmed beneath Eren's intensely concerned eyes. "I'm not going to break. Go." He commanded.

Eren did as he was told, and was only vaguely concerned when Armin hissed and dug his nails deep into his back. The biting pain dragged a slow groan from deep in Eren's gut, and, again, Armin found himself laughing despite the sting.

Slowly, Armin moved his hands from clawing into Eren's skin as he adjusted to the feeling. When he was comfortable enough, he tangled his fingers in Eren's hair and pulled him down into a messily hungry kiss that involved groping hands and shallow thrusting on Eren's part. 

"I love you," Armin whispered into Eren's open mouth before he took him by the lips again.

Eren nodded and snaked kisses along Armin's jaw before biting and sucking at his neck, drawing huffs and moans from his partner. 

"Love you, too," Eren was currently struggling with creating clear thoughts, and saying actual words to form logical sentences was beyond difficult. Still, because it was for Armin, he tried his damnedest to anyway. 

Warmth bloomed in the pit of Eren's stomach with even the smallest movements and his mind raced at a mile per minute. With a shaky hand, he pulled Armin's length using his other for support. Armin writhed beneath him, gasping with each time Eren brushed his prostate and pulled him closer to an orgasm.

Neither of them lasted long, and their night ended with laying side by side, fingers intertwined and inseparable.

For the majority of the hours that ticked by, they both lay in silence with Armin's head propped against the curve of Eren's shoulder. Eren broke the silence.

"Hey, Armin. You said you didn't want to live in Trost, didn't you?"

Armin brushed his hair from his face and fought the hints of a frown which tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, I guess I did. This is Jean's thing." Jean's name made Armin feel as though he'd drank acid. It burned his tongue and made his stomach twist.

Eren nodded, mercifully failing to notice the shift in Armin's mood.  Armin kissed Eren's cheek and prompted him to continue. "Why do you ask?"

Their noses pressed together when Eren turned his head. His eyes were vibrant and glazed with wonder as if they were their own galaxies filled with adventures to discover and explore. Armin huffed a soft laugh. 

"I was just thinking," Eren brought their tangled hands onto his chest, and ran an idle thumb along Armin's knuckles. "Where would you go if you could? Anywhere in the world with money being no obstacle. Where would you go?"

"I don't know," Armin answered honestly, "I haven't given much thought to traveling. I used to. When I was young, I mean. That's all I did. My parents had given me a globe as a birthday present and every night when I couldn't sleep, I'd spin it over and over again and stop it with my finger. Wherever my finger landed, I told myself I'd go there. Admittedly, I owe the Pacific Ocean quite a few visits," he smiled fondly before his eyes fell closed briefly. "Where would you go?"

"Somewhere warm," Eren said immediately. "I hate it here. We live on a beach and it's cold as fuck year round."

"We're in the north, Eren," Armin sighed.

"We're on a coastline. That's not how it works. The sun should know better."

Armin rolled his eyes. "Well, then why did you move here in the first place?"

"Technically," Eren shifted, propping himself onto his elbow, "I didn't move here. Mikasa did. This apartment is hers. Everything here is, really. When her parents passed, they left her with some money as a college fund, but, because I let her follow me into the military, the money wasn't going to go to college anymore, so she bought an apartment, so we could have some kind of home. She always thinks ahead. Basically, I'd be homeless without her."

"I'll have to thank her," Armin whispered into his pillow case.

"For allowing me to freeze to death?" Eren questioned.

"That's exactly why." Armin removed his hand from Eren's grasp and trailed it along his side. Eren shivered beneath the feather soft touch. 

Both men fell back into silence, the sounds of their soft breaths filled their otherwise quiet surroundings. 

They slept with limbs piled on top of one another, pressed flush against one another skin against skin and hands securely joined.

 

The morning light was completely unwelcome, and brought a crushing end to their fairy tale night. Armin was the first to wake, and he rushed out of the apartment in a flash. He managed to collect his slacks from the previous day as well as one of Eren's shirts as he worked on a swift exit. Before leaving, Armin scribbled a nearly illegible note reading 'I love you, have a good day for the both of us. Fight.', and then dashed outside, drowning himself in fresh air and sunlight. 

There were 8 missed calls left on Armin's dying phone when he remembered to pull it from his pocket. Every one of them was from Jean. 

Immediately, he shoved the device back where it'd come from and went on about his day as he normally would despite the device searing into his leg every time it bumped him through the lining of his pocket. Guilt swelled in his chest to a point where it was unbearable. At lunch time, he caved and called.

Jean picked up on the last ring. "Jean Kirschtein speaking," he seemed distracted. _Maybe there was a god in heaven_ , Armin thought.

"It's me," Armin said.

"Oh," Armin heard Jean drop his pen before his desk chair creaked, "hey. Let me guess. Krista's?"

Armin didn't humor him with an answer. "Did you need anything?"

"Nothing special," Jean replied. He sounded distant, frustrated, hurting. Armin rubbed his eyes until he saw spots of vivid color. "I just wanted to know if you were still alive. Not dying in a ditch or drowning in your own vomit or something. You never came home, and I got worried."

"I'm okay, Jean," Armin muttered.

"At least one of us is." Someone on Jean's end interrupted the call, stepping into his office with clicking heels that could be heard over the line. There were a few muttered words before Jean returned his attention to Armin. "Hey, I'm kinda busy right now. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay."

They didn't speak again that day. 

 

The night was far worse than any daytime bitterness. Neither man even so much as looked at one another. Jean went directly to the bedroom while Armin lay sprawled across the sofa, studying his hands with fascination every time Jean passed the place he lay. He didn't want to talk. There was nothing he wanted to say that wasn't goodbye. 

Their condition only worsened with each sickening minute they were pinned together in the same space, yet they continued to do it to themselves. As per usual for the last four months, they slept in separate bedrooms, unable to even spare one another pleasantries and 'good nights'. They lived in cold silence and the dead of night did nothing to change that. 

Their lives worked in repeat for the next three days. They ate, the left for work, they returned home, they slept, they repeated. Their lives had boiled down to mundane tasks which required too much effort to preform with some normalcy. Armin felt as though he was drowning. Jean was visibly being broken down, bit by bit. Thread by fraying thread. 

They were at the end of their rope, and they hung together. Just as Armin had told Eren they would.

Some nights sleep never came. Some nights he never wanted to wake unless he'd find Eren by his side. Every night was equally difficult, regardless. 

 

When the call came at four on that Friday morning in late October, Armin jolted awake. Hands fumbling in the dark, he knocked the phone off his bed and immediately attempted to dive after it landing himself in an aching pile on the floor. His greeting was a groan and not much more.

"Armin," Eren gasped past choking sobs.

"Eren?" Armin exclaimed in a harsh whisper, pressing the mobile closer against his cheek, "Eren what's wrong? Why are you crying? Did something happen?"

Eren failed to answer as he tried uselessly to clear his throat, and end the violent gasping coupled with painful wracking sobs. 

"Shit," Armin whispered, scrambling to his feet and pulling on the nearest pair of shoes he could find, "Eren, tell me where you are. Right now. Tell me."

"Ap- Apa-" Eren, coughing and sniffled loudly, released a shaking breath. "The apartment, Armin," he squeaked, "the apartment."

"I'm on my way," Armin replied firmly, grabbing his coat from its usual resting place on the breakfast bar stool, and running into the breaking dawn. 

 

The wind was bitter and snaked under the baggy legs of Armin's sleeping pants, constricting his movements. His teeth chattered, his nose ran, and his eyes watered as he raced down the back roads that creeped their way through overgrown parts of the city which had gone overlooked since the highway had been laid. The hair that slapped his face was almost painful to a point where he had to settle for tying it back in the world's ugliest pony tail as he pushed on.

Armin was grateful that Eren had thought to unlock the front door, because he was a man on a mission and refused to be stopped by a locked door. 

When he pushed through the door, he was enveloped by complete darkness. The curtains were drawn, the blinds were securely closed, and not a single light could be found throughout the entire home. Even the temperature was set lower than usual.

This wasn't Eren's home. Eren was sunlight and warmth and everything inviting. Panic set in.

" _Eren!_ " Armin shouted. If he hadn't known any better, he would've been convinced that the apartment was vacant until something shuffled in the space Armin recognized as the living room even through the pitch black darkness. 

Armin stumbled more than his fair share of times as he shuffled in the direction of the soft noises. 

"Eren," Armin whispered once he'd found a suitable place to seat himself. The love seat dipped to his right where Eren lay in the fetal position, clutching his knees securely. When Armin pressed his hand against Eren's forearm, the rigid muscles there relaxed only slightly. 

"You came," Eren breathed. His voice was hoarse and raw with exertion.  His breathing was shaky and labored and his hair was soaked with sweat which still beaded along his brow. 

"Jesus Christ, Eren, of course I came," Armin traced his fingers along Eren's arm soothingly. Armin was almost afraid to touch any other part of him. He looked so fragile, almost as if he'd turn to dust if he was tampered with. 

"I'm sorry," He whispered breathlessly, eyes cemented closed as silent tears raced along his cheeks. "I shouldn't have called, I'm sorry. It's nothing."

Armin sighed, and took Eren's hand between both of his own. "Don't be an idiot," Armin kissed along Eren's fingertips individually, "do you want to talk about it?"

Eren used his free hand to push himself upright just enough to prop his head against the arm of the love seat. The rest of his body was slack with fatigue. "I just need water, I think. I- yeah. Just water. I'll be okay."

Frowning, Armin rose and moved into the kitchen, making and delivering Eren's drink in silence. Pressing the glass into Eren's hands he planted a kiss on his forehead. 

"What happened, Eren?" Armin asked quietly as he took his place beside Eren, legs folded beneath himself so he could sit as closely as possible. 

Eren's hands shook around the glass, but as he took a few sips the rapid rise and fall of his chest seemed to slow and the tension that had been building in Armin's gut slowly unwound. He exhaled slowly, watching Eren carefully as he stretched to place the empty glass on the end table nearest his head.

"Eren," Armin whispered, nails digging into his own thighs.

"I had a bad dream," Eren explained finally, eyes shifting to the door and back again.

"Bad dreams don't do this to people," Armin frowned. His throat felt tight and his voice seemed pinched.

"Mine do," he motioned to his legs, hand hovering over the one that stopped just at his knee. "My dreams ruin the concept of sleeping for a while." 

"Oh," Armin breathed, eyes wide and trailing from Eren's leg, past his abdomen and finally coming to rest on his face. Realization hit him painfully. His head ached. "You mean you have, uh, well, you suffer from PTSD, don't you?"

Eren shrugged. "I wouldn't say I'm suffering."

"Eren."

"What?" Eren gave a weak smile, "I suffered when it all happened. Now it's just," Eren hummed, "not suffering. I'm just taking the consequences as they come."

"The consequences?"

Eren nodded. "Of everything. Enlisting. Convincing my friends to. Just everything. I kind of brought on everyone's suffering because I thought I could bring them some kind of hope. Or change. I don't know. It was all really fucking stupid."

"Are you ever going to tell me?" Armin asked, fingers idly tracing the patterned cloth.

Eren tilted his head, hair falling into his face as he looked on with intense concentration. "I'll have to at some point, won't I?"

Armin shrugged before Eren grabbed him and pulled him into his lap. Scrunching his nose, Armin turned his face. "You smell like sweat."

"It's been a rough night. Cut me some slack," Eren toyed with Armin's hair, looping it around his fingers as he spoke. 

"I was never good in school. Really, I was never good at anything that didn't include picking fights that Mikasa had to finish, to be honest. I've always just existed."

"But," Armin interjected but was quickly shot down.

"Hey, it's story time with Eren. Not Eren featuring Armin."

Armin sighed and rested his head against Eren's chest, "Continue," he said.

"Anyway, that's what I did. I existed. I went day by day. I don't have any talents, really. I just try and hope for the best. In high school, I had a limited friend group, and by some form of a miracle, I had a girlfriend. Her name was Annie Leonhardt," Eren smirked fondly, "She was my opposite in every single way possible, but we leveled one another out well, I think. Everyone always told us we looked terrible together. She looked like an angel. I looked, and still look like, a gremlin. I haven't change much. Anyway, all of my friends had a plan. They were going to be doctors, lawyers, teachers, politicians, engineers; and they all could have done it, too. I have no doubt that they all had bright futures. I wasn't like them, though. I couldn't be like them, so I decided the military was meant for me.

"It wasn't so bad at first. Everyone was happy with their chosen future, and I was content with mine. Fighting is what I did, so I figured I may as well get paid for it, right? Mikasa changed all that. She got worried. She was scared for me. She said she couldn't imagine me surviving on my own, and I mean, I guess she had a point, right? She saved my ass more times than I'll ever admit. She decided she didn't want to be a personal trainer after all, and that she wanted to be a soldier. Then, her friend Reiner, you know him, said she couldn't go in it alone, so he'd go, too. His friend back then, and current boyfriend, Bertholdt said being a doctor didn't hold any appeal for him after all, and the military seemed like a nice option. Mina, Thomas, Hannah, everyone. They all fucking followed. At first I fought them on the idea, because they all deserved so much more than when I was getting myself into. I tried to get them to stay away for their own safety. When no one really listened, I stopped trying. I should've stopped them. I didn't because I didn't feel so alone anymore. I encouraged it in the end.

"Finally, it came to a point where I tried to convince Annie to join. She was doing law enforcement, I think. I didn't think I'd get anywhere with her, to be honest. She shot me down every single time I asked until the day before graduation when she found me, pulled me aside and said 'I hope you know what you're doing, Jaeger. I'm following you,'" Eren drew in a shaking breath, "I let her down, to say the least. I forgot that people died in the military. For a few blissful months before training began, I forgot the risks involved with our group decision. It didn't take me long to remember.

"People died off like flies once we were introduced to battle. Thomas first. Mina. This guy named Franz. I never talked to him, but I saw the devastation his death caused. Suddenly, I got scared. I was killing my friends in my own mind, so I tried harder. I wanted to do better. I wanted to protect them. I couldn't. They kept dying. Slowly, I was unraveling. I was losing it, Armin. I was angry all the time. I was so upset and exhausted and furious that I just pushed myself on, and Annie began to resent me for it. We began to fight a lot. Like, even more than usual. People began to get sick of us," he laughed, "every time we were even in the same room, people dispersed. We were violent in both words and actions. When we fought, we were at each other's throats. I guess, in some way, it's good we conditioned people to leave when we were together. Because if we hadn't," he paused, biting his tongue, "if people hadn't hated hearing us fight, I would have been the source of too many casualties."

Armin wrapped his arms securely around Eren, face buried in the crook of his neck. He radiated warmth. 

"And then-" Eren's voice was tight- "and then we had our last fight. It was in the southern most barracks. I don't remember why she was angry. I don't remember why I yelled back. All I know is that we'd broken up over it. We'd reached our tipping point. She hated me. I hated hurting her, and we'd both had enough. As we fought, people left as usual, but for once, I was the one to step back and forfeit the fight. I told her she won. I told her she didn't have to be stuck with me anymore. I stormed out, and because I did, I left her to die alone." Eren sounded robotic. His tone was heavy and solemn. "Not even thirty seconds after I left, there was an explosion. It was deafening and fiery and affected everything around it. The barracks went up in flames, and a few surrounding trucks went up in blazes as well. One actually exploded and the shards of metal from the truck are what nearly took off my leg and gave me all the scars and shit. 

"I screamed for her. I screamed and cried and pleaded for her to walk out of the flames. I don't really remember what happened after that. I think I fainted; I probably fainted. I'd lost a lot of blood, you know? But, still, I didn't care, I screamed her name. I begged for her to be alright. With my face in the dirt I begged every god to let her be alright. 

"On the day of her funeral, I was in the hospital. I never went to her grave site, and I don't plan to. I ruined her life, and I took away her future. She followed me because she trusted me. I let her down. That was six years ago, and every day after that incident I prayed that I'd die too. I couldn't bring her back to me, so I was dead set to give up on myself to be with her. I became something of a suicidal idiot, and that's where you found me. After that, we begin. I'm getting better. I swear to God, I can get better. Just- sometimes- I just. I'm sorry, Armin."

Armin swiveled to sit in Eren's lap to kiss him properly. His hands ghosted over Eren's tired features, stubble pricking his hands as he kissed him deeply. "Don't apologize to me," Armin whispered, "don't you dare apologize for things that were beyond your control. Don't you do that."

Though Armin's legs began to cramp and his back ached from straddling Eren for so long, he refused to move as he held Eren's head firmly in place against his chest while Eren's broad hands traveled along his back, pressing him in closer still.

"How about we go for a walk?" Armin suggested, aching to stretch his limbs. 

"You have to work tomorrow, Armin," Eren said, kissing the corner of his lips.

Armin shrugged, "I'm calling in sick."

Eren sat in silent contemplation, "In that case how about a shower first? I think I can smell myself."

Nodding, Armin giggled and peeled himself away from Eren's lap. "Shower first," he agreed. 

 

They didn't sleep any that day as Armin dragged Eren around to his favorite places around Trost. Lounging on the beach beneath the pier killed hours as they talked about anything and everything that came to mind from the color of the sky to their deepest secrets.

"Riddle me this," Eren said casually, laid back in the sand. The legs of his pants were filthy as he'd refused to wear shorts with his leg. Armin didn't fight him on it.

"Hm?" Armin asked.

"Were you and Jean ever happy together?"

"Sure," Armin replied immediately. "We met by mistake. I was the designated driver for my friends at a party. Jean was there to get free alcohol. We didn't talk much but we had a mutual understanding that we were passably friends. We spoke when we saw one another on campus and wished each other well every night before heading our separate ways. Jean partied too much. He was loud and outspoken and he just didn't care because he was having a good time, and that was just the Jean Kirschtein way. Our relationship as passable friends lasted for a long while, but then the unthinkable happened. 

His best friend, someone I'm convinced he was nearly dating at the time, Marco Bodt, passed away. It was a house fire. A bad one. He'd actually made it out at first, but he went back inside for his younger sister. Neither of them made it out," Armin cleared his throat, "I liked Marco. He was a good guy, and I was obviously really upset, but Jean. Jean was devastated. He sobbed in public when he got the news. Everyone was there to witness it. He completely and totally fell apart before my eyes. I've never seen him cry since then. He vowed he never would, because nothing would ever hurt him that badly again. He hasn't gone back on that.

"But I was worried about him. I mean, he was in a bad condition. He didn't eat. He didn't sleep. I hardly think he bathed. He just lived day to day. I offered to stay with him, just to keep him company and try to keep his mind off all the tragedy. The more time we spent together, the more we talked, and the more I actually really genuinely began to like him. He drew in his free time to kill bad memories. He drew me. He drew his apartment. His family. Sometimes he drew Marco, but he threw those out before he thought anyone could see them. I always saw. After a while, it was just understood that we were dating. It was never made 'official' but, it just happened that way.

"Jean is a good man at heart. He just gets preoccupied and wrapped up in life and he forgets how important things are until he loses them," Armin pursed his lips, "I guess he never really learned, huh?"

"Huh. I'm almost sorry he lost you," Eren replied softly.

"I'm not," Armin shook his head, "we were never meant to be together. We're burning each other out. Our lights are dimming, and it was only a matter of time before I found you."

Eren rolled over and pushed Armin into the sand, kissing him softly, pinning him to the ground by his shoulders. "Remember when I told you how I hoped he never forgot how important you were? On our first date at the coffee shop?"

"It wasn't a date," Armin smiled fondly.

"It was totally a date, dude. But do you remember?"

"I remember," Armin confirmed.

"I totally fucking called this happening," Eren smirked, "but, seriously, I won't forget how much you matter. I'll still forget how to breathe when you smile at me, and I'll still find it impossible not to be upset every time you have to leave. You have my word."

Armin blushed furiously and tried to hide it by turning his face in the sand. "You're giving me feelings," he muttered.

"Good." 

Eren kissed him again, twice for good measure. 

 

"What time is it?" Eren asked after they'd laid side by side in the sand until the sun began losing its intensity. 

Armin wriggled around until he could retrieve his phone from his back pants pocket. "4:30?" Armin said questioningly.

"Shit. Crap. Okay." Eren stood and brushed his pants off before stretching a hand out for Armin to take a hold of. As he hoisted Armin upright, he took him into a tight embrace. "I have to go, alright? I work a night shift tonight, so I'll see you when I get back if you want to just stay at my place."

Amin nodded, dazes and confused. "Okay?"

Eren ruffled Armin's hair before darting down the beach to the nearest path leading to the main road leaving Armin alone in the shade of the pier.

He rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder about you, Eren Jaeger," Armin muttered to himself as he went in the opposite direction on his way to his prison. His plan was simple. Jean wouldn't be home from work until seven at minimum; he would leave his phone on the counter, grab his packed suitcase, and leave for good. He had had enough. They'd began their relationship without announcement, and Armin would end it in the same fashion. He needed out. He needed a mercy shot, a swift kill with limited struggle. 

This was the right thing to do. 

 

Armin arrived home twenty minutes later, having walked as slowly as humanly possibly by taking every winding endless road he could think of. Still, his journey had to end at some point, and it did, right at the back entrance of the home he and Jean had shared. His stomach knotted as he remembered standing in the same spot he inhabited now when they were considering purchasing the property. Armin had wanted to view the house from every angle. He wanted to memorize its every detail.

"Can you see us with a family in this beauty?" Jean had asked, hand drawn around Armin's waist to pull him in close.

Armin had laughed and nodded animatedly. "It's wonderful, Jean," he'd replied dreamily, "it's home. It even has a porch for when we're old and senile and want to buy a set of rocking chairs."

"We're already old and senile," Jean had said, kissing Armin's, then short, hair. "So, what do you think? Is it our forever home?" His smile had been filled with so much hope. So much love.

"Forever," Armin had promised. 

Their exchange rang in Armin's ears louder with every step he took towards the backdoor.

 _Mercy shot,_ he reminded himself,  _swift kill._

 

"Armin," Jean's voice rang through the empty home from somewhere in the kitchen. Armin almost wondered if it was all in his mind as his nerves built wildly. "We need to talk."

 _Nope,_ Armin sighed,  _it was definitely real._

"Alright," Armin tried to sound strong. The voice in his head sounded strangely like Eren when it whispered  _fight_. "Let's talk."

The brave bravado Armin had tried to hard to cling to shattered into a million equally unsuccessful pieces when he caught sight of Jean hunched over the dining room table. Pale yellow light filtered though the overhanging light fixture causing sickly elongated shadows to spread through the kitchen. 

Armin sat across from Jean keeping a stoic face even when Jean raised his to reveal swollen eyes and puffy reddened cheeks. He'd been crying.

Armin dropped his gaze. He felt his stomach drop to the floor.

"Where have you been?" Jean's voice was weak and shook breathlessly. He was no longer Jean the successful lawyer. He was Jean the terrified kid who's lost his best friend all over again. Armin felt sick. 

"Work," he offered.

"No you haven't," Jean countered, "do you want to know why I know?"

"Not really," Armin's stomach twisted painfully.

"I'll tell you anyway," he said shortly, "I know you weren't at work because I went by your office when I woke up and you weren't home. I tried your phone and got no answer. Your voicemail was full, so I figured maybe you went to work early. But, imagine my surprise when your boss said he hadn't heard from you. I didn't know where you'd gone. I didn't even know if you were still in the same state anymore, Armin. I was fucking worried."

"I-"

"Don't. I don't want your apologies. Not yet. I have questions."

Suddenly, the dim lighting felt much too bright. Armin folded in on himself and nodded. 

"Where do you go at night? Don't say Krista's. I talked to her, too. And her scary ass girlfriend. Whose clothes are you wearing? What fucking changed between us? And, finally," he stood, kicking his chair back under the table violently before he yanked Armin's filled suitcase above the tabletop by its handle, "what the  _fuck_ is this?"

Before Armin was able to muster a reply, Jean threw the suitcase across the table, nailing the sheetrock wall by the door and creating a considerably large hole there. He was fuming.

" _ANSWER ME,"_  he screamed. Fresh tears flooded his eyes and his hands shook with such violence that he had to grip the table for support.  

"I need a drink," Armin pushed his chair out.

"You don't drink."

Armin rounded the kitchen island and shook his head. "A lot of things have changed," he replied coldly as he poured two shot glasses and sat one in front of Jean before taking his seat again and downing the burning liquid. 

"Did you honestly think you could save us? Did you think it was going to work? We are so far gone, Jean."

"No. Not we. You. You are so far gone. I tried. Did you forget how much I loved you?"

Armin didn't fail to miss the use of past tense. His gaze dropped to the amber liquid in Jean's glass.

"I loved you too, asshole," Armin said through gritted teeth, "if I didn't love you do you think any of this would've happened? You would  _know_ if I didn't love you. Don't try that with me. This relationship is like slow suicide. You know you aren't happy, so why do you keep trying? Why do we do this?"

" _I just want peace,"_ Jean growled, nails digging into the stained table top.

" _Well this is the result,"_ Armin fired back, " _this isn't peace. This is warfare, Jean."_

Jean's eyes caught the sight of the large hole in the wall before he pounded the table top with his fist. "I'm so confused, Armin. I don't know what to do anymore. You've been my life for so long. I'm so confused."

"You have to let me go, Jean," Armin instructed, "You know what I've done, and what I'll continue doing. Let me go, and save yourself."

"Who is it?" Jean asked, finally taking the shot glass between trembling digits. 

Armin refilled his glass, eyes narrowed in concentration. "The man from the bar," he whispered. 

"The man- the bar? You mean-"

"The one you fought with. The one who told you not to touch me. That one," Surprisingly, Armin's voice was even. He drowned his rising anxiety with another douse of alcohol. 

"I would've preferred that idiot, Connie or whatever the fuck his name is," Jean hissed.

"Stop downing Connie. Stop belittling my choices. I'm a grown man. I can make my own decisions, Jean. I know what I'm doing," Armin screamed violently near the end. His throat ached.

Jean's face had hardened. The tear tracks had disappeared. His mouth was a hardened line. "Are you sure about that, Armin?" His eyes held all the hurt.

"Yes," Armin whispered.

"Get out," Jean commanded. "Get out now. Don't come back. Don't think of me, don't come here again, and don't even so much as say my name. Get out."

"Jean-"

"No. I have my limits, Armin, and you've passed all of them. Please leave. Now."

Armin's lower lip quivered as he stood with a nod. "Have a good life, Jean," he muttered before dragging his suitcase out the door. He threw his bag across the yard as soon has he was outside; though it didn't travel far, it did strike a nearby tree and left a nicely sized dent in the damp grass where it fell. From inside the house, Armin heard Jean's tortured screams. They sounded painful as if they were being torn from his very core, especially when combined with the sounds of dishes being thrown at walls and exploding on impact. The crashes continued and wracking sobs took the place of wretched screams. 

Armin sat outside the door with his face buried in his knees, listening as Jean slowly fell apart. He couldn't save him this time. This time, he'd caused the damage.

When it began raining, Armin didn't complain. He felt he deserved it. 

Armin was left to his own thoughts, using Jean as heart wrenching background noise. And in his solace, he drowned himself in numbers, trying to count raindrops as they fell from the heavens.

It was fruitless and pointless all the same, but still, watching raindrops and praying to waling skies was what he did best.

So, he wished on raindrops until the pain in his gut numbed and Jean finally settled into dreary silence. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin relies on Connie to tell Eren the news of the break up, and Connie's cool about it. Also with bonus Mikasa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I THOUGHT I COULD END IT AFTER 8 CHAPTERS. BUT GUESS WHAT ISN'T HAPPENING?  
> This is like a soap opera, it just doesn't end. My God.  
> But, at long last, HERE IT IS. UPDATE NUMBER 8. I had to rewrite this thing two different times because it was never what I wanted. So, I'm really sorry it took so long!  
> Comments and kudos are always super lovely, and you can also feel free to message me on my tumblr. That URL is conniespiringer.tumblr.com.  
> I hope you guys like it.

Armin sat in the rain for as long as he could bear it before the droplets began to freeze, and the bitter cold seeped into the marrow of his bones. He felt heavy. His clothes clung to his drenched skin uncomfortably and his hair was plastered to his face; moving had never been more difficult. From inside the house, Armin could hear Jean trudging around the open floor plan though all the lights had been turned off hours ago. There were many times when he considered knocking on the door, falling into Jean's arms and apologizing profusely until he accepted him back, and they could start again. The only thing that stopped him was the image of Eren in the back of his mind. 

Every time he'd imagined this very moment, his freedom, he thought he would be overjoyed. Ecstatic. Busting down Eren's front door with joyous laughter and boundless glee. Instead, he just felt empty. A certain unnamed numbness boiled deep in his gut and trickled through his veins like an icy fire. His skin burned though he felt frozen to the core, and his mind raced with unforgiving and relentless memories of a happier past. 

He was sure he would have vomited if he'd had anything in his stomach. 

 _Five years,_ the pesky voice in the back of his mind would whisper when his racing thoughts would silence for only a fleeting moment.

"Shut up," Armin would hiss in return, folding over on himself with his arms wrapped securely around his torso so he could be sure he wouldn't literally fall apart. 

He'd thought he could be happy, but he was stupid for believing things could ever be that simple. How could he ever be happy when he'd completely ruined Jean in the process? He'd never meant for life to turn out this way. He loved Jean. He was absolutely sure he felt nothing but love for Jean, but sometimes, love wasn't enough to piece together a relationship long past its expiration date. 

Silence had filled their broken home. Armin could hear neither footsteps, shouts, or China being thrown against walls. The silence, he noted, was almost worse than all of those other things combined.

Slowly, painfully, he hauled himself upright. His joints cracked under the pressure and his skin felt stretched to its limit in the frozen night air. He wobbled over to where his suitcase lay, now submersed in a thick mud puddle, and sighed through his nose in sheer frustration. 

"Work with me, God," Armin muttered beneath his breath, stooping down and hauling his luggage up forcefully. Mud and grime sloshed across his face and splattered over the lightly colored fabric of one of Eren's shirts. "Or not," he amended, throwing his hands up in surrender, gaze locked onto the heavens in desperation, "that's fine, too."

Lugging his baggage through vacant streets in the dead of night took both a physical and mental toll on Armin as he was, all the while, being pelted with frozen rain whipped around in a powerful gale. The pale lights from frosted street lamps and the glow of the full moon, though it was spotted with angry dark clouds, illuminated his path. It hardly made any difference to Armin. He still stumbled and slipped as if he was blind to the world around him. He didn't know where to go, and couldn't possibly fathom where he wanted to be. Rather, he settled for stumbling through the night down cracked sidewalks that led to the front door of the Springers' townhouse.

He fell against the door as soon as he was within inches from it. He was drained. His legs ached. His skin burned. His head pounded, echoing and resounding painfully, brain pulsing. He hardly noticed when the tears he'd held back for so long finally spilled in hot rivulets down his cheeks, chapped from the cold. 

Raising his hand in a loosely coiled fist, Armin fell against the rough oak frame and pounded against the door with a violently shaking hand. He sniffled and coughed, an openly sobbing disaster. In his head, Jean shouted, loud and fierce as he threw Armin's suitcase clear across the room in rage. Armin recalled the hurt in his eyes. The storm brewing in his mind. Slowly, under the steady watch of the moon, Armin fell apart, face coated in equal parts tears and snot.

"Connie," Armin croaked, voice cracked and scratchy. "Open the door," the side of his hand struck the door once again and he closed his eyes as the frame rattled on impact. Within seconds, heavy footsteps could be heard pounding down a nearby set of stairs and Connie's sleep-heavy voice broke the solemn silence of the night air. 

"You better have a damn good reason for banging on my door at stupid o'clock in the morning," Connie grumbled just loud enough to hear through the door, "the only reason I'll allow for being woken up this early is if someone is literally bleeding out and dying right on my stoop. If that's not the case, I suggest you run far and fast because you're going to meet the business end of a baseball bat." 

Fortunately for Armin, he managed to stepped back with wide eyes just as Connie slung the door open, mouth set in a firm line of frustration and baseball bat resting on his shoulder, ready for action. Half-lidded groggy eyes snapped open wide in realization in an instant. 

"Armin?!" Connie hissed. "What the hell are you doing? Are you okay?"

Numbly, Armin shook his head and rubbed his nose with his shirt sleeve.

Connie sighed. "Jesus Christ I almost hit you with a bat. That's probably one of the dumbest questions I've ever asked," he reached outside just long enough to catch Armin by the sleeve and drag him inside. Connie stepped back once Armin had dropped his luggage with a loud clatter and began to assess him thoroughly. "Well, you don't look hurt, so that's good, but, fuck, it's snowing," he spoke mostly to himself, and when he stepped forward, Armin winced. A steady hand dusted away the ice that had built on his shoulders. Armin's lower lip trembled as he looked Connie over in sincere gratitude. 

"I noticed. Is that how you normally greet guests?" Armin asked, breathless. Tears pricked his eyes.

Connie shrugged, propping his weapon of choice against the wall of the narrow hallway which led into the main living area. "There's a reason we Springers don't have family friends," his voice was uncharacteristically gentle and almost calming. Nothing like the Connie that Armin had grown to know. 

"I'm so sorry," Armin whispered feebly, voice shaking uncontrollably from both cold and the overwhelming urge to continue in his sobbing. 

"Jesus Christ, don't apologize to me, man. We all have our bad nights." With a gentle shove, Connie directed Armin towards the darkened living room, lit in a sickening shade of greying blue. "Go sit down and get comfortable. I'll make coffee."

Armin obeyed, speechless. 

 

Connie reappeared within ten minutes, toting a mug in each hand and a bag of potato chips under each arm. Armin took the cup he was handed gratefully and downed the liquid in unforgiving gulps which scorched his tongue. He couldn't find it in himself to care. Warmth spread through his core, and he was finally able to take in a deep breath without feeling like his skull may explode. His head was still a clouded mess, but he was beginning to feel okay, if only just slightly.

"Why the chips?" Armin finally asked after comfortably silent minutes spent thanking every deity he'd ever known for the gift that was coffee.

"There's no use in being awake if you aren't eating. Rule number one in the Springer household," Connie tossed the second bag in Armin's direction. It landed by his feet, and Armin dutifully picked it up and tucked it between himself and the arm of the comfortably overstuffed sofa.

"So," Connie prompted. Armin braced himself for the question he was sure would come eventually. "Not that I'm upset that you think of me during snow storms in the dead of night or anything, but don't you think 2 in the morning is a little early for visitation hours?"

Armin gave a huff that could almost be translated as a laugh. "I didn't even know what time it was. I'm really, really sorry about this. I am so sorry."

"I don't want your apologies. Like I said, I ain't mad," he pushed back in his recliner until it was close to toppling over backwards. When it fell towards the carpeted floor, it landed with a padded thud, but the floor vibrated just enough to send ripples through Connie's abandoned cup placed on the end table by his side. "I'm just wanting to know why you're  _here_  at two AM instead of, you know, being curled up at home and not attempting to contract pneumonia."

Armin busied himself by taking a sip of his, unfortunately, rapidly cooling drink. His eyes wandered aimlessly around the open room, noting the high ceilings and and warmth of the brown paint which even seemed friendly from beneath the blue veil of moonlight filtering in though thin laced curtains. Free floating shelves were placed around the room, between bookshelves and in every nook and cranny, and sported tons of family pictures which Armin was sure he could spend days admiring. Armin smiled into his drink which was now deserving of a microwave. The dark shadows that seemed to paint the walls back home hid from the loving warmth of this room. It seemed to Armin that darkness couldn't touch anything Connie or Sasha cared for.

"It was Jean," he finally answered. His voice was surprisingly strong despite the fact that he could feel his insides breaking at the very mention of the name.

"What did he do?" Connie leaned forward dangerously, seeming to completely forget about the bag of chips he'd placed between his knees.

"Nothing, nothing!" Armin sputtered, waving his free hand desperately. "This time it wasn't what he did. It's what-" he paused and spoke past his growing sickness, "it was what  _I_ did," he finished weakly, cheeks flushed with shame. _  
_

Connie leaned back in his seat, posture still rigid. "He figured it out, then."

It wasn't a question. Connie understood the situation perfectly. Still, Armin nodded. 

"Shit," he whispered, rubbing his non-eating-hand over his lips. 

"Yeah," Armin replied. Chest empty. Mood defeated. Carefully, he ran the tip of his finger along the rim of his cup. 

"Isn't that kind of a good thing, though?"

Armin shrugged in stubborn silence.

"What do you mean-" Connie mocked Armin's simple shrug almost perfectly.

"I mean I don't know if it's a good thing."

Connie expression became grave, caught somewhere between intense irritation and disbelief. He raised one eyebrow steeply while the other remained knitted in a disapproving curve. 

"Armin," Connie finally asked, slow and intentional, "why did you come here and not Jaeger's?"

Again, Armin shrugged.

"Don't give me that shit," he said. Armin suddenly felt like a child being scolded by a parent, "tell me why you chose my house over his. There's a reason and you and I both know it. I'm not stupid."

"I know you aren't," Armin's head hung low and he studied the carpet as though it'd become the most fascinating thing in the world. "I just- I don't-" He didn't know where to begin. He felt Connie's eyes practically boring holes into him and he squirmed uncomfortably in the spotlight, shrinking into himself. "I'm scared," he finally admitted. Shame dripped from his every word. "I'm always so scared. Even when I shouldn't be, I- I am. I have nothing to fear, right? I know that's right, but I just can't seem to believe that. I'm so scared that I made the wrong choice. Once I tell Eren, this thing is sealed. It's permanent. I love them both, Connie, and I don't know if I can be okay if I'm being shunned by Jean because I was hasty and an idiot. I'm selfish. There's no way to go back and fix this and-"

"And then what?"

"I don't know."

"I'll tell you, so listen up. If you go back, and you fix this with Jean, this whole thing will turn into a rerun. You'll be miserable and I'll be miserable from seeing you miserable. Eren's liver will probably turn into 90% alcohol content, and the cycle will repeat. Armin, if you're considering going back to Old McAsshole, I would like to remind you that I do have a bat, four high school baseball trophies, and no issue with knocking your ass into next week if it'd put some sense in that too-big brain of yours. You feel me?"

"Old McAsshole?" Armin repeated.

"Listen," Connie said defensively, "I'm coming up with insults on the fly, and if you want any good ones, I have to be given at least a 24 hour notice. I'm just saying that if you wanted to talk to someone who would let you run back into your problems, you picked the wrong friend."

"No I didn't," Armin muttered, pulling his fingers through his matted hair. His vision had become distant and bleary under fresh tears. "I just need a backbone."

"Pfft," Connie rolled his eyes, "dude, you know how in the Wizard of Oz the Cowardly Lion just wanted bravery, but it was in him all along? That's you."

Armin hummed, unconvinced.

"You don't need a backbone, you need a support system," Connie said finally, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet, hand extended in Armin's face.

"What?" Armin asked. His face was pinched in sleepy, dazed confusion.

Connie sighed, "we don't have all night, Arlert. I'm an old man, and I don't pull all-nighters; now come on."

"What?" Armin repeated.

"We're prancing out happy asses down to Jaeger's apartment and we're going to confess our undying love for him and then we're going to sleep," Connie explained. "Seriously. Don't make me threaten you with the bat three times in one night." He wiggled his fingers until Armin latched onto his hand and pulled himself up to eye level. 

"That's the spirit," he said, dragging Armin back towards the front door and kicking his luggage into the main walkway for Armin to grab on the way out. "I swear to God I deserve a medal of honor for putting up with this," Connie grumbled as they walked into the night, car keys in tow. 

 

Connie had to practically shove Armin up each flight of stairs as he became increasingly defiant with each step. "What did I tell you about all-nighters?" Connie growled, forcing Armin up a level.

"And what did I say about not wanting to do this?" Armin would hiss in return, stumbling forward with each violent push. 

"I'm in charge, and this is happening tonight. One way or another. Now move."

Fifteen minutes and many curses later, both men stood face to face with Eren's apartment door closed securly for the night.

"He's probably sleeping," Armin whispered.

"That sure as hell didn't stop you from beating down my door, now did it?"

Armin shook his head guiltily.

"Yeah, exactly," Connie tried to whisper. "Knock or I will."

Armin look over his shoulder at Connie whose coat hood was pulled up snugly around his face, its fur trim giving him something of a mane. His eyes bounced to the front door, back to Connie, and then the door again. When Connie stepped forward, Armin rush to guard the door, hand bound in a fist so tight that his fingernails threatened to break skin. 

He took in a shaky breath and exhaled in an even less steady rhythm. His lungs burned from the vicious cold and his mind raced, on edge and fully alive. He couldn't turn back, he knew that, but still, that same dread boiled and churned in the hollow pit of his stomach. He was suddenly glad he hadn't eaten at Connie's. Gently, and ever so quietly, his knuckles fell against the door. The sound was barely audible to his own ears.

"Man, that's not going to do anything. Let me do it," just as Connie moved to his side, something inside the apartment shifted. The locking bolt on the front door twisted.

"There's no way Eren woke up to that," Connie commented, "dude sleeps like the dead."

Armin hummed in agreement and stepped away just to check the complex number. 

This was definitely Eren's apartment, but the woman standing in the threshold definitely was not Eren. Armin found himself completely immobilized when he locked eyes with the steely grey ones staring right back at him, unwavering and refusing to tell of any emotion at all.  

Eren's sister, Mikasa, stood in the open door, eyes silently demanding an explanation with her arms folded over her chest. With her gaze trained on him, and Connie's straying into the night sky, something inside of Armin broke. He shook to his very core and the crushing sob that tore through him was just as painful as it sounded. Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his face before splashing onto the front of his well abused shirt.

He was bothering everyone tonight.

He was useless. He was helpless. He needed Eren. But, the moment he needed him, he wasn't there. Armin didn't enjoy having the tables turned against him, and he broke without much prompting. 

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, lips trembling to a point where speaking was nearly impossible. "Please," he wiped at his eyes uselessly, "I have no where to go."

Something in her expression shifted. The subtly in it could almost be blamed on a change in the lighting. "Yes you do," she said. Her voice was soft, but there was a distinct hardened edge that had formed over time and dared anyone to overstep her boundaries.  

Stepping aside, she allowed both Connie and Armin inside. 

The temperature was spiked much higher than Armin ever remembered Eren ever being comfortable in. He was hot-natured. Armin did know that much. No matter where he moved in the apartment, he felt her eyes follow him from the mounted pictures on the walls to where she stood by herself in the center of the kitchen, red shawl draped delicately over her shoulders. The air was becoming increasingly hard to breathe until she made her way over to him and handed him a slim glass of water. Once he'd taken it from her slender fingers, she resumed her seat on the extra long sofa which acted as a wall between the guest bedroom and living area. 

"Are you alright?" She asked, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Her eyes were always alert though she looked hungry for sleep. 

"Long night," Armin said quietly, graciously sipping as much of the water as he could take between breaths. 

"I understand," she nodded, and her hair fell in her face. "Eren said you stop by sometimes in the middle of the night, but you didn't have a key. He's doing inventory at work tonight. So, I've been waiting up on you."

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Armin said with guilt. 

She nodded and ran her fingertips through the strands of the scarf. "Apparently, I did. If I hadn't, you'd still be standing in the cold."

"That's been my entire evening, honestly. I doubt it would've made a difference."

Mikasa shrugged, undetered. "Sometimes a little warmth goes a long way. Do you need more water?" Her eyes met his empty glass.

"No, no thank you. You've done more than enough."

His statement was punctuated by a long drawn out snore from the master bedroom, courtesy of Connie. 

"Way more than enough," he added quickly.

"It hasn't been a problem," she said calmly, standing on the balls of her feet and extending her limbs with cat-like flexibility. The taught muscles beneath her skin moved seamlessly.  "Well, now that you've arrived, I assume you're going to stay."

Armin nodded.

"Alright, well, in that case, I'm going to try and sleep. If you need anything, I'll be here." Though her voice was stuck in monotone, the sincerity reached her expression. The genuine urge to be helpful and of of could be found in the glow of her tired eyes and the soft line of her mouth. She wasn't the typical type of friendly, Armin enjoyed having her around. She resembled the eye of a storm; capable of danger, strong, unyielding, terrifying, but so peaceful and still. She was exactly what he needed during times of relentless desperation. His frayed nerves felt soothed as she turned to leave the room. 

"Thank you. Really. For everything." He spoke after her. 

She bowed her head and before retreating to the guest bedroom she spun around to meet his gaze. "I don't know when Eren will be home," she said honestly, "try and get some sleep. He'll be here in the morning. Have a good night."

Armin remained silent even when her door clicked closed. He wasn't sure why the room had a door when it was missing a wall in some poor attempt to achieve an open floor plan, but he opted not to question it. Instead, he lay silently in the dark, feet dangling over the arm of the love seat as he stared into complete darkness. The ticking of the grandfather clock gave him something to focus on through the night while Mikasa and Connie slept soundly. 

Three hours later, at six in the morning, Eren arrived home. 

When Armin heard a key turning in the deadbolt, he jolted upright. His head spun from lack of blood flow and the suddenness of the motion. Armin sat at the edge of his seat, waiting impatiently for Eren to enter his line of vision. When he finally rounded the corner, work shirt stripped away and hanging over his forearm, Armin was on his feet in a second, bounding across the carpet until his arms connected around Eren's neck. His heart was lodged somewhere in his throat when surprised teal eyes met his in the dawn light. 

"Eren," Armin practically cried, burying his face in the crook of Eren's neck.

"Armin?" Eren gasped, dropping everything he held to latch his arms securely around Armin's waist. "What are you doing awake?"

"I haven't slept," he replied, lips barely able to move in his proximity to Eren's skin. "I couldn't sleep."

Eren's hands moved to his sides as he pushed him back slowly, an arm's length away. Armin hadn't realized he'd actually been crying until Eren raised his hand and gently rubbed away the evidence with the pad of his thumb.  Eren took his face between steady fingertips and moved his head side to side mechanically. "What did he do, Armin?" Eren's voice was cold to a point where Armin felt a chill fun down his spine. 

Armin sniffled and shook his head violently. "Why does everyone assume it's  _his_  fault?"

"Everyone?" Eren asked just as Connie grumbled something incoherent and dragged in a slow breath from somewhere in Eren's bedroom. "So there's a sleepover at my place and I wasn't invited, because that definitely wasn't Mikasa."

"He came with me." Armin frowned.

"Well," Eren said, stooping down to pick up the shirt he'd dropped, "I would hope so. Unless those two have something going on that I really don't want to know about."

Shaking his head, Armin laughed through his nose. His smile could have almost been real, but the reality of the situation was beginning to crush Armin slowly. He couldn't back out, he knew that. He shifted on his feet.

"You're acting strange," Eren commented, as if to prompt an explanation. 

"I know," Armin's gaze leveled with Eren's mouth, and he knotted his fingers together anxiously. 

"Do you know why?" Eren asked, patient. His words were smooth as velvet and just as comforting. Armin wanted to fall into them. 

"Yes," Armin's fingers grazed the plane of Eren's extended forearm where his hand was still connected to the hip, tracing a protruding vein.

"Do you want to tell me?"

Armin's gaze flicked upwards to meet Eren's and the attentive look in those wide, curious eyes made Armin's chest squeeze and his stomach leap. God, he loved him. 

"I think so," he finally whispered. Yes, he was still scared. Of the future. Of life. Of not being able to step away, back into the life he'd grown to know and tried to love. But, in that moment, he knew that if there was anyone who would ever be able to fix those broken little pieces and restore his peace of mind, it was Eren. There was no one else. There never would be anyone else.

Intentionally, Armin pulled out of Eren's reach and walked towards the love seat, fingers winding down his arm and palm until finally their fingers intertwined and Eren was willingly being pulled along. Eren was the first to sit, and though heavy bags had began to darken under his tired eyes, he still looked alive and willing to listen. Armin hovered over him before opting to straddle one of his thighs and kiss him deeply. Though Eren responded well by tangling his hand in Armin's hair, he was quick to pull back with a sly smirk.

"That's not telling me anything, Armin," Eren was sure to whisper, sparing a glance towards the spare bedroom where his sister lay.

Armin nodded and took Eren's head between his hands, rough stubble scratching at sensitive, dry skin. His hands shook until Eren raised his own to steady them. Armin took a shallow breath, eyes darting before he finally just closed them. "Jean knows everything." His voice was steady though the rest of him demanded to fall apart. Deep breaths did little to aid his condition.

"He knows?"

"He knows," Armin repeated in validation.

This was the pivotal moment the entire night had built up to and, oddly, he felt at peace. Though his heart pounded painfully in his chest and his head was running wild with thoughts streaming together, the world hadn't ended. The ocean hadn't risen and drown the town. The sky hadn't opened and rained locusts and toads. The world still turned. They were okay. He was, surprisingly, okay. 

The fear of commitment began to melt. Suddenly, he was deaf to all the bitter words that Jean had thrown at him just hours before, and all that mattered was the man sitting beneath him. 

He wasn't gripped by uncertainty. Not anymore. He knew he loved Eren. He was more sure of this than he was the color of the grass or the purpose of the sun. In all of his life, Armin had never been more positive of anything. He'd loved Jean, but never with this intensity. Never with this much hunger and desire and need. 

Armin breathed his words. "He knows I love you, Eren. And he knows I'm yours." When Armin smiled it was weak and tear filled, but it was real, and as far as Eren was concerned, it was dazzling. "If you want me."

"If I want you?" Eren laughed with disbelief, his hands wrapping around Armin's upper arms securely. "Armin, I don't think there's any way I could ever want anyone else after knowing you. There is no one else for me."

Armin's eyes were finely cut gems in the vivid light of early morning. His heart had hurdled somewhere near his throat, unable to handle the sudden rush of merriment that shot through his bloodstream and sparked under his skin where Eren's fingers pressed into him.

"I want to kiss you," Armin whispered past a broader, more vivid smile. Something in his stomach fluttered.

"So what's stopping you?"

"Nothing," shaking his head, Armin brushed his lips along Eren's before taking him in a hungry kiss. "Not a single thing. Not anymore."

 

Eren fell asleep just before Mikasa's alarm clock sounded, waking both Mikasa and Connie. Though sleep refused Armin, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He didn't have the seem conscious. Armin's fingers trailed along the bones that protruded from Eren's hips. Soft, ghosting touches that raised bumps along the other man's skin and caused his breath to come in uneven drags. Armin smiled to himself as Mikasa and Connie buzzed around them in their typical morning routines until they both settled in the kitchen.

The strong aroma of coffee flooded the cramped apartment welcoming in the morning, and Mikasa spoke over the sounds of closing cabinets and clinking porcelain mugs. 

"You work with Armin?" Mikasa asked, unassuming. The coffeemaker hissed when liquid dripped onto the warming plate. 

"You would be correct," Connie confirmed, slurping his drink. "I never liked the place much 'till Armin showed up. He's made things more. . . interesting. That's for sure."

"Yeah?" Mikasa prompted. She didn't say much, but it was still evident that she was interested. She was caring despite her lack of words. Connie hardly seemed to notice that fact that she hardly spoke, though.

"Yeah, dude," he said ever so casually. Armin could hear the smirk in his words. "I mean, let's put it this way, I never imagined myself hooking strangers up with my best friend and popping in for surprise sleepovers at three in the morning at the ripe old age of 30. Yet, here we are. And it's all because he's just, huh, he's just him, I guess."

"I think Eren would have to agree with you," Mikasa murmured. 

Connie laughed. "I'd be willing to bet my left kidney and my liver that Eren would agree. He cares about Armin. That's for damn sure."

"That's what makes Eren special, if not a bit of an idiot," Mikasa said, voice distant, "when he's passionate about something, he's really,  _really_ passionate. It clouds his judgement sometimes."

"This time he's passionate about the right person," Connie said in Armin's defense without hesitation. 

Mikasa took a moment to collect her thoughts. "You know, I generally don't like people getting close to my brother. He gets himself hurt more times than not. But, this time, I think you may be right."

There was a long lull in the conversation. Armin shifted under Eren's weight, and his arm had gone completely numb. The sound of chairs scraping against linoleum made him startle and jump. 

"Are you two going to head to work together then?" Mikasa asked over the sound of the kitchen sink.

"Nah," Connie shuffled in the direction of the door, "I'm gonna tell the bossman he's still sick. After the night he had, he deserves it."

"And you don't?"

Connie offered a barking laugh filled with sincere amusement. "Please," he scoffed, "I've earned a year's worth of sick days dealing with this bullshit. It's been fun though. It's been fun. I'll see you around," he said fondly.

"Sure."

Armin could almost swear he heard a smile in her tone. 

Mikasa only stuck around for a few minutes longer, pacing the floors before she finally made her way to the front door. "Alright boys," she spoke to her mostly-unconscious counterparts, "behave and don't get hurt while I'm out for my run."

When the door slammed closed, Armin pushed himself upright and yawned, arms outstretched. Eren's head lay in his lap, sleeping undisturbed. Armin would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous. Still, he pressed a kiss against the sleeping man's temple and shuffled out from beneath him in pursuit of a much needed shower. 

 

It didn't take very long for Eren to tiredly stumble his way into the bathroom and join Armin under the steady stream of scolding water.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Armin asked as Eren pressed his lips against Armin's neck.

"Mhm," he hummed in response, trailing soft kisses along the curve of Armin's shoulder.

"So why aren't you doing that?" He whispered, head falling to the side.

Eren grabbed Armin's hair, pulling his head back to bite at the exposed skin there. "More important things to do," his voice was hoarse when he hand snaked down Armin's stomach.

His breath hitched in his throat when Eren's hand fell lower and he was left to thrust into his loose hold. Armin whined and his head fall against Eren's chest.

"I just wanted a shower. You should've stayed asleep," Armin hissed, gasping at Eren's gentle touch.

Eren only laughed.  

 

Throughout the time spent with Eren and his sister, Armin had never felt more at ease. Their group constructed on a foundation travesty and unfortunate circumstance worked like clockwork, they ticked in tune to one another and easily melded into a single unit. In a way, Armin had gained a family. He fit in effortlessly to their daily routines, and in the end, Armin enjoyed having Mikasa around more than he'd ever considered he would. 

When Eren would leave for work, Armin could found glued to Mikasa's hip. She didn't seem to mind as she offered to go to dinner with him, walk through the park, and rent enough movies to get them through the night while Eren was away. Armin found that she was caring and compassionate, but hugely independent and fared for herself well. Armin was enamored by her.

"I think I'm in love with your sister," he admitted late one Sunday night as he was curled into Eren's side. Mikasa had long since fallen asleep in the guest room. 

"Oh yeah?" Eren question, hand rubbing along Armin's arm where he held him securely. "She normally scares people away by this point."

Armin frowned. "She isn't scary," he argued.

"She isn't scary, my ass," Eren huffed, "when we were eight, I pulled her ponytail during a game of tag. Instead of telling my mom, like every decent kid would do, do you know what she did? She bludgeoned me with a stick, pushed me into the creek behind our house, and left me for dead. And you say she's not scary. She hasn't gotten any nicer."

"Oh, well that settles it. I have to marry her."

Eren sank back into the couch, eyes closed and smirk spread wide. "Not if I marry you first."

Armin was grateful Eren had his eyes closed, else he'd see that his face was burning hot and his smile was too wide to fit his face. 

 

It was the day before Thanksgiving, a bitter Wednesday morning, when Armin decided he should do something kind of the people at his office.

He beat the sun awake and stepped outside just as the first few rays of morning light broke past the horizon. There was a bounce to his step that hadn't existed since his under-graduate days. His chest felt light. His head was clear, and god dammit if he wasn't happy. 

He took extra time that particular morning to visit his favorite coffee shop with the brown walls and the back corner table meant just for himself and Eren, and ordered drinks for everyone in his office. Even Shadis got a special order. He felt _really_ nice; that is until he turned to leave, and the man in his peripheral vision made his heart stop completely. He stumbled back. 

Jean looked back at him with an equally pained expression. 

Armin could see the mental battle being waged behind Jean's eyes before he finally chose to step forward, arms extended. "Let me help you with those," he offered, taking a tray of drinks. "They look heavy," he defended.

Numbly, Armin nodded, unable to look him in the eye. 

"I could've handled it." Armin's throat felt tight.

"I know," Jean admitted, walking awkwardly by Armin's side as they made the slow, uphill journey to Armin's office in cold silence.

"You're going to be late for work," Armin deadpanned.

"I own the office, I think I can afford this one time."

Armin shrugged, eyes melded with the sidewalk. 

They walked on, avoiding recognizing one another's presence. Occasionally, Jean would sigh and Armin would become increasingly irritated with every exhale.

"I'm not really sure what you expected out of this," Armin snapped, turning to face him and not caring that he was blocking the walkway.

Jean's scowl deepened. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied stubbornly. Armin swore he could literally  _feel_ his blood pressure rise. It was obvious that Jean was hurting, and hell, so was he, but this was making nothing better. He just needed to be left alone. He needed room to breathe.

"Don't try that. Why can't you just hate me and make this easier for everyone?" Armin's eyes burned and his voice cracked, brittle in the autumn air, but he refused to cry. Not today. Today would be a good day, he'd already decided.

"We both know I couldn't hate you if I fucking tried, Armin. Believe me, I tried to convince myself that I did when what we had started going to shit six months ago, yet here I am. I'll always be here."

"What do you want from me?"

Jean glanced at his watch, mouth set in a frown. "How about lunch today?"

"Eren wouldn't be fond."

"I don't give a shit," Jean took in a slow breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, this isn't me saying 'please take me back I need you as a lifelong partner and nothing less'."

"That's what it's feeling like," Armin set his jaw in irritation.  _Good day, good day,_ he reminded himself for the fifth time in under ten minutes. 

Jean pushed his hand through his hair in frustration. "Armin, this is me saying 'I miss you like hell can you please at least acknowledge the fact that I exist.' I don't understand what happened. I just want answers and a friend. We both know how my social life looks. So, what do you say?" He paused. "I'll even pay."

"I don't need you to pay for anything," Armin replied. He tried to sound callous, but instead his tone was drenched in defeat. Jean always won. It seemed even separation couldn't change that.

"Fine, do whatever you want. I'm just trying to make whatever happened between us seem okay."

"We'll never be okay, Jean. Relationships have to be healthy to be okay, and that's not us." Armin reached out for the drink tray which Jean still toted. "Regardless," he said, balancing the cardboard tray on his fingertips, "meet me at the Trost Daily office at two. If you're late, I'm leaving, Jean. Seriously. I don't know what you want, but I do know I owe you explanations and apologies, and I can give you those, but that's all I have to offer."

Jean inclined his head in agreement. "Two it is."

Jean walked in the opposite direction, leaving Armin to continue on his trek to work alone with his thoughts and pressing fears. Confrontation was not Armin's specialty, but he had the ability to talk his way out of nearly any situation. He hoped that would be enough. He'd stuffed those raw, broken feelings away so well in the warmth of the Eren and his sister's welcoming embrace that he'd almost forgotten they existed. Almost.

Armin pulled his scarf up higher over his nose. 

He had to be strong. He had to push through and show he could handle himself for both Eren and Jean's sake. Facing his inner demons was always his biggest struggle, and now there was no where to hide. He had to be like Mikasa, strong. Like Eren, brave. And like Jean, confident and sure. He'd seen all these qualities in action time and time again, yet manifesting them in himself seemed impossible.

He had to try. He had to make a battle plan, and he had 6 hours to do so. 

Unlike he'd planned, Armin didn't hand deliver warm drinks to anyone. Rather, he sat the numerous cups in the break room and went into his cubicle to wait out his morning until two. He'd argued with Jean for hours in his head, going over possible topics and snide remarks. He had to at least feel prepared, and not too small for his own skin.

If there was anyone he could be brave for, it was Eren, so he was. 

Armin felt queasy as work dragged on. Connie cracked jokes and Sasha made multiple comments to Armin about stealing her husband away during the night to try an ease the building tension that thickened the air. Armin did appreciate the efforts, and though he laughed, his attention was a million miles away, eyes trained on the window which faced the crowded streets. 

Eventually, the animated chatter  was redirected to more enthusiastic coworkers. 

When a familiar black sports sedan pulled along the curb, Armin stood wordlessly and took robotic steps towards the door. Jean greeted him with a nod and nothing more. Armin couldn't even offer that much as he slammed the passenger's side door closed and folded his arms over his chest. 

Silence extended over the expanse of miserable seconds before Jean revved the engine.

"We have to talk," Jean said finally, hand on the stick shift.

"Just drive," Armin instructed, fighting the rising urge to claim motion sickness before they'd even begun to move.

Grinding his teeth, Jean complied, burning rubber as he skidded and merged into the line of cars driving no where in particular. 

"Talk," Jean said once the buildings they passed became less recognizable and fewer in number, spread along acres of green farmland and nestled in sweet wooded areas.

Armin exhaled the breath that burned in his chest. His insides were on fire, and his entire body pulsed. 

"Okay."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a car accident, a thousand apologies, a marriage proposal, and resolutions all the way around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys, this is it! Three months later and we are concluding this journey. I didn't think I'd be this affected by the ending of this chapter of my life, but writing this has had such a massive impact on who I am as a person, and I want to thank every single person who supported me through this project. Every single one of you, whether you picked it up from the very first chapter or joined in after it was completed your support still means the world. This isn't that last you'll here of me! There's still so much I want to do, and I really hope this ending pleases everyone.  
> Remember you can find me at conniespiringer.tumblr.com!

Over the course of five years, Armin had built an arsenal of things he needed to say to Jean. From foul words to bitter phrases, Armin had thought of everything, yet he didn't have the capacity to say them out loud. He couldn't conjure up the courage when it mattered most.

There wasn't a single proper way to begin retelling the past eight months. So much had happened. Everything had changed, and sometimes he wasn't so sure if life had changed for the better. There were no words that felt right in his mouth. Every potential sentence tasted sour and made his stomach lurch. 

Jean waited quietly by his side, fingertips anxiously drumming the steering wheel as his jaw clenched and unclenched in the thick, uncomfortable silence. 

"Life was never meant to be this way," Armin finally whispered.

Quirking an eyebrow, Jean gave a stiff nod. "You're not fucking kidding. This is all because that asshole-"

"No." Armin said sharply, hands balled into fists so tight his nails dug crescents into his palms. "No. Don't you blame this on Eren. Don't you do that. We share blame, but Eren has nothing to do with the fact that we were doomed from the start."

"What in God's name are you even talking about?" Jean snapped, his calm facade was finally falling away.  _Good._

"We were falling apart long before I ever met him. We could barely give one another shallow smiles without feeling like we were putting in too much effort, and that is literally the  _only_ reason Eren and I met in the first place! You and I are only good for hurting each other, and that's all we will ever do. That's all we're capable of. Hurt and dysfunction. Trying to fix our relationship was like trying to put out a fire using kerosene. It just doesn't _work_ , _Jean._ "

" _I tried to be good enough for you, Armin."_ Jean had resorted to shouting.

"You had me fooled," Armin said coldly. 

"How long have you been doing this to me?" Jean paused. "To us."

"Six months." Armin replied automatically without a hint of regret though his insides felt on fire. "Off and on."

"Why?" He didn't sound like he cared to hear it, but Jean had asked, and who was Armin not to humor him.

"Why did I gravitate towards him or why did we date off and on? I can probably answer both all at once."

Jean remained steadfast and silent, face steely as he screeched through an intersection. The sound of tires squealing along the pavement and horns honking in the background filled his cold quiet.

"Jean!" Armin screeched, "I didn't agree to die today. Slow down!"

"Neither did I. It's fine. Stop changing the subject."

Armin filled his cheeks with air before releasing a huffing sigh. God, he had such a headache.

"I chose to give my time to Eren because you never wanted it, and even when you had my time and dedication it never mattered. It all dissolved into sex anyway. We were nothing meaningful. God knows I wanted to stay with you, Jean. I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life." Armin's eyes pricked and his throat closed. He squeaked more than he spoke.

"I wanted nothing more than to love you forever, if you loved me too. But life doesn't work like that, and I got tired of pursuing something unattainable. Love was never enough to hold us together. We were damned, and you couldn't come to terms with it. Whatever you do, don't think for a second that I was enjoying watching us crumble."

"When did you stop loving me?" Jean's voice was gravely and rough.

"Are you not listening to a single word I'm saying?" Armin cried in frustration. He simultaneously wanted to wrap his arms around Jean's neck in reassurance while also fighting the urge to strangle him. The bizarre feeling of hatred mixed with the remains of the romantic attachment he'd left behind swirled in his stomach, and in his unease, he remained rooted to his seat. His eyes finally found Jean's profile.

"I never stopped loving you. If I had stopped, you would've damn well known about it," his voice trembled, and a lump formed in his throat. Armin spoke past it as best as he could manage, "if I had stopped loving you, I would've walked out our front door the moment I knew for sure. I wouldn't have cared about what happened to you once I found Eren. I wouldn't have considered the aftermath, and I sure as hell wouldn't be in this car right now. I love you a lot more than I care to admit, Jean. But the romantic love and the idealized version of you that I wanted to believe existed? That's all gone now. And this is what we have left."

Just like outside of their old home in the sleeting misery that was the night he'd left Jean, Armin found that silence was far worse than the yelling and the hysterics.

This was his fault. Their highs, their lows, and their differences could've been worked through. But, Armin had left. He was selfish and greedy and he left. When the tears Armin had been expecting finally slid down Jean's cheeks, glistening like jewels in the mid-afternoon sun, something in Armin snapped. The floodgates in his chest busted wide open, and every emotion he'd stuffed away for the past month broke free, running rampant.  

"I just wanted to be happy," Armin whispered despite his jaw shaking under the threat of a breakdown.

"Don't you think I  _know_ that, Armin? Do you think I wanted to make you miserable? Huh? Stop looking at me like that, god dammit, and answer me." His voice cracked painfully. "How long have you wanted to leave? How long were you unhappy? How long have I been holding you back?"

Armin's mind raced, and the questions streamed together until they didn't quite make sense. His eyes flicked between Jean and the road, and then back again.

"Since we graduated grad school." Being honest with Jean had never been this hard. What had once been so natural now left a giant, gaping hole in Armin's chest which he clawed at uncomfortably past his seat belt.

"Armin," Jean looked absolutely astounded, eyes wide and glassy, mouth agape. Armin swallowed hard. "Armin," he tried again, barely breaking a whisper, "that- that was two  _years_ ago."

"I know," Armin's voice was hoarse and could barely be heard over the sound of tires purring against the vacant stretch of road. 

Jean seemed absolute and strong for a fleeting moment before he slammed the heel of his palm against the steering wheel, a loud scream ripping through his very core. Armin gasped and shrank back. The sound was painful enough to make him wince. 

"That's just fucking  _perfect,"_  he shouted, " _this. THIS_ is just fucking perfect-"

Jean's words were cut short by the sound of tires burning against asphalt. A large cloud of smoke and dust rose in massive plumes, and the blaring sound of a wideload transfer truck's horn startled them both from their current argument.

Neither of the men had seen it coming at first, though it was rather hard to miss. The truck barreled its way through the opaque cloud of dust and plowed through the intersection which Jean had neglected to note the stop sign for. The horn sounded again in some poor attempt to do what exactly? Armin wasn't sure. They couldn't move fast enough to make it through the intersection, and they couldn't stop to avoid oncoming disaster. They were stuck. All of Armin's thoughts died on the tip of his tongue and his emotional turmoil froze in his veins. Helpless. He felt helpless.

The feeling wasn't anything new, but it was still completely unwelcome. 

His body temperature dropped to absolute zero. His tongue tasted like copper. 

Armin reacted first, arm darting out to brace Jean against his seat. Of course, by the time either of them had laid eyes on the massive hunk of metal, the timing was much too late.

The sound of crunching metal, squealing tires, burning rubber, and brash curses filled the air, sounding muted to Armin's ringing ears. His skull felt full, and he couldn't focus on anything aside from the throbbing pain that pulsed through his entire being as the car fishtailed along the open stretch of highway, cycling and spinning out of control.

Suddenly, Armin remembered when he was a child. For some reason that no one had ever questioned, he had always wondered what it would be like inside of a clothes dryer. Now, he felt he had finally found his answer, and he wasn't a fan. He made a mental note to hang his clothes to dry if he lived.

The thoughts of dying men were strange ones, he mused. 

Armin heard screams from somewhere outside of the car. Every part of him ached and demanded attention, but his consciousness lulled in and out, rendering him incapable of doing anything to ease his own suffering. 

Children screamed. Someone called out for a phone. He thought a few people may have been crying. 

Staying awake was hard. It was daunting and useless, so with a deliberate and slow breath, Armin allowed consciousness to slip away like sand through his fingertips.

Sometime during the collision, his hand had fallen away from Jean's chest and into his open palm.

He ached, but it was fine. Daylight was consumed by looming darkness when Armin's fingers twined with Jean's. They didn't deserve to die alone.

Armin felt warm as drifted to sleep.

He felt at ease.

He felt... he felt okay. 

 

Okay is not, in fact, how he felt upon waking to the excruciating brightness of his hospital room. Needles poked and prodded every square inch of skin he had to offer, dripping fluids and medications directly into his veins.

He hurt.

Everywhere. 

He was also alone.

The room he was being kept in contained two beds and not much else. While Armin occupied one of those beds, the other was vacant apart from a few large stuffed animals and bouquets of balloons tethered to a nightstand cluttered with numerous get well cards. The pain he felt was immediately replaced by fear.

Suddenly, he remembered why he was there. He also remembered who should be by his side.

Armin shot up right and immediately regretted it when pain sparked like star bursts in the back of his mind and a blinding light formed behind his eyelids when he squeezed his eyes closed.

He sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled with shaky exhaustion. Jean had taken the brunt of the impact having been hit on the driver's side. Unfortunately, Armin remembered it vividly.

"Jean?!" He croaked in the direction of the empty bed. He wasn't sure what he expected, but when the only reply he received was silence, panic settled in and made a home in his churning gut. His heart beat erratically and one of multiple machines off the his right began to beep with the rhythm. Fast and frantic. 

Luckily, the inconsistent and panicked chirping of the heart rate monitor caught some attention, and a nurse peeled into the room in record timing, auburn hair ruffled and wide brown eyes boring straight through him. 

She gasped and hugged her clipboard closer to her chest. "Oh my God," she smiled, "you're awake."

Her words didn't register with Armin. "Where is he?"

 _God_ his throat ached. Was his voice supposed to sound like that? His head swam.

Her face contorted with unmasked confusion. "Who?"

" _Him!"_ Armin rasped, motioning wildly to the bed just across the room. The needles under his skin pulled acutely and the open wounds under thick bandages screamed in protest. Armin could practically feel the wounds ripping open with the sharp movement. He offered a pathetic squeak. 

The nurse, Petra the etching in her name badge read, moved with elegance, spinning on the balls of her feet to gaze at the few straggler balloons before turning back to Armin, mouth pulled in a heavy downward slant. She placed her clipboard at the foot of his bed and gingerly moved Armin back into the position he'd woken up in, hands palms up by his sides. 

"Honey," she shook her head, rubbing her fingers along her pale pink lipstick as she pulled away, "he's not here anymore. He passed away this morning. I was actually coming to collect the rest of his stuff when I heard your monitors going berserk."

Armin had never deflated faster in his life. His heart popped like a balloon and its remains fell heavy in the pit of his stomach. He felt hollow. It was so cliched. Hollow was such an overused term for describing the moment after loss, but it was the most suiting.

His lungs had collapsed sometime during this revelation. His heart had slowed considerably. Maybe he was dying, too.

Or maybe he was just plagued by wishful thinking. 

Silent tears fell without his noticing until Petra scurried into the bathroom and returned with a large wad of toilet tissue, dabbing at his cheeks. 

Armin wondered where he'd gone wrong. He wondered why life was so cruel and why Jean had to die young. He wondered why fate took the wrong person.

Jean had done no wrong.

Armin on the other hand...

"How did you know him?" His nurse asked softly, pulling Armin from his thoughts. He wanted to be thankful, but he was hardly able to feel anything at all aside from the dull thudding in his chest that pulsed through his every working vein and nerve. 

There were no words to describe a pain like this, he concluded. There was no way to accurately describe the kind of loss that causes one's unraveling aside from body wracking, soul crushing sobbing.

He felt undone. Like all the shotty stitch work that had struggled to hold him together for 28 long years had finally busted and everything he was, everything he loved, had fallen through those ragged tears. He was only a shell of who he wanted to be.

Words were thick on his tongue. Keeping his eyes open was a task. Medicine clouded his thoughts. 

Why did he have to wake up?

Why. Why. Why. 

"We only wanted to be happy," Armin's trembling voice danced between octaves with every syllable. The words were hardly intelligible, but he couldn't stop himself from speaking. Maybe Jean would hear him. Maybe he would understand how sorry Armin was if he just kept talking to his nurse who sat on this edge of his bed, dutifully wiping his face with a solemn look of sheer sadness. He was dragging her down as well. "We-" Armin sniffled and coughed violently until he tasted blood. 

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered once the iron taste in his mouth didn't unsettle his stomach quite so badly.

She silently reached across him and poured water into a cup from the container on the bed side table and placed it in one of Armin's hands. "Don't apologize for this," she scolded, face sincere. 

"I-," Armin sighed and held the plastic cup to his lips, firmly grasping it between two trembling hands. "We- we were together for nearly six years."

Petra's face fell slightly when she glanced to the empty bed. It wasn't in sadness, though. Her expression was more based in discomfort. Dull anger mixed into the thrumming ache which had seeped into Armin's bones.

"I guess I should be used to people reacting that way to a gay relationship." His voice felt lodged in his throat somewhere. When he spoke, his words were empty and cold. Void of any life. He supposed it was a suiting tone.

"What?" She asked, turning back to look him in the eye. When her head fell to the side, her hair fell across her cheek. She pushed it behind her ears. 

Armin wasn't given time to respond.

"It's not the gay thing I'm concerned about. It's just- I'm trying to figure out how someone like you found your way into a relationship with someone like him. Also, wasn't he a bit old for you?" She asked. Complete sincerity was all Armin could find in her face. He wanted to be livid, but he was mostly just confused.

"He's only two years older than me," Armin countered weakly. Speaking of Jean made breathing so much more difficult than it already was. "He's thirty."

He had so much time left.

Petra cracked a smile. "Sweetie, Mr. Dok definitely wasn't thirty. He may have wanted to believe he was but-" she shook her head.

"Dok?" Armin questioned, pushing himself upright on his elbows despite the burning ache in his fatigued muscles. "Dok. Dok isn't his last name. His last name is Kirschtein."

Something bright and wonderful settled in the seeping darkness of his chest cavity. He considered it to be hope, but before he could allow himself too happy, he had to face these same demons for the second time.

"So that bed," he inclined his head towards it, "it wasn't Jean's?"

"No," the nurse shook her head.

"Is-" He didn't want to ask, but he had to. "Is, um, Jean, is-"

"He's alive," she said, mercifully ending his tortured cycle of meaningless words. "He's in the ICU in critical condition, but he's alive."

Armin had never experienced internal combustion, but he felt as though he came dangerously close in that moment.

"You're sure?" He pressed, "you're absolutely 100% sure?"

"I am absolutely 250% sure," she laughed. "Just trust me on this one, kid. We know what we're doing around here, and his heart is still beating though he's beaten up pretty badly. Broken bones. Some internal bleeding around the brain. It's not a pretty picture, but-"

"But he isn't dead."

"Right," she confirmed and motioned for the cup which Armin held like a vice, squeezing until he couldn't feel his fingertips. Reluctantly, he let her take it away. "Now then," she said, wiping away invisible dust from her scrubs, "you just sleep, alright? I'll come to check on you later. Let me know if you need anything."

Armin nodded weakly and watched as she cleared away the remaining balloons and cards from the neighboring bed. Stuffed animals where placed under her arms as she began to leave the room. Stopping in the doorway, Petra gasped and whipped back around. "I almost forgot to tell you. You both have had visitors here for the past five days. I finally convinced them to sleep at home for a night, but I don't doubt they'll be back. They'll be thrilled to know one of you has woken up and is fully alert. Your condition is a miracle, that's for sure."

Though his head felt heavy with sleep, Armin didn't fail to catch the fact that she had said  _both_ of them had had visitors. "Both of us? You mean?"

She grinned, shifting her weight and re-positioning the toys under her arms. "I mean exactly what I said. They sit in his room for hours, and they do the same for you. They're some of the most dedicated visitors I've ever seen, if I'm honest. I mean, they aren't even family, so it's incredible, really."

Armin only knew of only a handful people who would visit him in a place like this under circumstances like these. 

He offered the vague ghost of a smile.

"They are incredible," he said.

His nurse nodded her agreement and the door to his room clicked closed. 

 

The day passed without any notable events. In between bouts of restless sleeping and staring blankly at minty green wallpaper which had begun tearing away from the crown molding, Armin wrapped himself in thought.

He thought a lot during those hours that expanded into endless streams of time. Mostly he thought about Jean and he thought about Eren and he thought about fate.

Previously, Armin had disregarded fate in hopes that he could decide his own destiny with the people he chose, not the people life handed to him. The metaphorical cards he'd been handed in life had never seemed quite fair. He'd wanted to believe that he could break away from what life had planned and begin anew with no ties to the past or the pain that rested there. Slowly, time and age were allowing him to see just how stupid he had been.

Part of him would never be ready to let go of Jean or the history they'd made together, he knew that now. He would never be able to cut the man away and expect to be fully himself; he couldn't be Armin without Jean there. Jean was a facet embedded into the core of his being. He owed Jean so much more than what he had given him. He'd played the blame game long enough, and it was clear now that Jean was just as much of a victim as Armin himself. Armin hadn't wanted to take responsibility for his own actions because he'd sunken so low by is own moral code. He wanted to believe he was justified in the cheating and dragging Jean through Hell, but that just wasn't the case.

But, though fate was commonly cruel and Armin seemed to be its favorite target, it had allowed him to meet Eren, and that was the biggest blessing of all.

Life had become a mess by his own hand.

Who was he kidding? His life had always been a mess and he'd expertly looked past it; his entire existence was constructed on incidents based in disaster.

He'd met Jean because the man had lost his best friend and was battling fierce suicidal thoughts. 

He'd met Sasha because he was forced to move to a town he was sure he would never love, and was introduced to Connie who would, by some strange twist in destiny, become his best friend.

He'd met Eren when his life was crumbling, his relationship was failing, and he'd lost his footing in life. He was slipping, drowning, and Eren had pulled him out.

Hell, he'd even met the nicest nurse in the world during his darkest moment and she'd acted as some kind of beacon of light that directed him back to safety.

Maybe disaster is necessary in growth. Maybe development only stems from the times when life is spiraling and darkness clouds hope. Maybe living would never be a perfect experience, and Armin would always allow himself to fall when faced with doubt and the unknown. He was becoming used to the feeling of falling down, but, slowly, he was learning how to stand again. Maybe he had been stupid for believing that life could continue in perfect bliss, but it continued nonetheless.

Finding his way to happiness was only half the struggle, but Armin was getting there. In some twisted way all the events of the past five years felt like a treacherous trek up Armin's own mountain of demons and personal failings. He'd been so consumed with overcoming his every downfall and upholding his every obligation, that he'd never stopped to consider how far he'd come with growing into himself. He never allowed himself peace. And he never failed to deny himself happiness. He also had no problem, it seemed, with denying the happiness of others. 

That would change, he decided. 

Of course, he couldn't fool himself into believing that he was nearing the peak of that mountain of troubles, but he could stop and admire the view from where he stood. It was beautiful.

His life, in some sadistic and corrupted way, from cheating to lying to nearly dying, was absolutely beautiful.

 

Armin wasn't sure how many times he'd dozed off or what time it was when his nurse finally reappeared, all he knew was the she looked ecstatic and he felt like the living dead.

"Are you in the mood for company?" She asked softly. The door behind her was cracked open just barely, but it was enough to hear the excited whispers and shuffling fabric on the other side.

And excited fluttering feeling exploded from somewhere deep in his core. The broad smile he wore was painful, but, God, it was so worth it.

Outside the door, the voices grew louder when a female hissed the words "shut the fuck up, Eren."

A man's voice mocked her words exactly, saying, "yeah, shut the fuck up, Eren" before there was a loud yelp of pain followed by a "dude, what the hell?" 

Armin would recognize Connie's voice anywhere and his spirits leapt miles high. "Please let me see them," Armin begged.

Petra gave a soft, amused laugh before stepping aside and slinging the door open. 

 

His friends shouted his name in a chorus of off-key excitement before they all clamored inside, Eren leading the pack with tears in his eyes and his arms open wide. When the man practically fell on top of him, it took all Armin had not to cry out in agony, but he kept it at bay. Holding Eren was the most clumsy, difficult task possible with IVs and stiff bandages tangling his arms in webs of tubes and cords, but he managed just fine. 

Mikasa stood to his left, fingers carding through his hair. He saw her smile, and didn't fail to note the distinct glistening in her eyes as well.

Connie was outright sobbing, draped across the foot of Armin's bed, face buried in the blankets between his feet. 

To his right, Armin caught Sasha's eye. Deviously, she motioned to her purse and pulled out just the tip of a McDonald's Drive-Thru bag. Her smirk was triumphant.

Briefly, Armin wondered if Connie would allow him to marry Sasha as well. 

When happy tears welled in his eyes, he did nothing to hold them back. He laughed and cried and felt arms hold him from every angle.

He was sure that if love had any appearance at all, it would that of be the four people surrounding him.

"I-" Armin hiccuped and sniffed, "I love you guys."

" _I love you too, man,_ " Connie wailed. 

Armin laughed and allowed his head to fall back into his pillows. He jumped when Eren's lips found his ear and their fingers tangled. 

"I love you most," he whispered.

Armin breathed a dry laugh. "I don't know, I think Connie's giving you a run for your money."

Eren hummed and buried his nose into the crook of Armin's neck. He could feel the ghost of Eren's smile against his skin. 

Somewhere on his right side, Armin's heart rate monitor spiked, and he couldn't help but smile, too. 

 

Armin's stay in the hospital fell a day short of two weeks. According to every single one of his doctors, he was lucky to have escaped with only a broken arm, two broken fingers, a minor concussion, bruised ribs, and multiple lacerations to the face, legs and torso. 

Once he was finally allowed to see Jean, Armin had to agree with his doctors, he'd been pretty damn lucky. There wasn't a single thing about Jean that wasn't broken. His left leg had been crushed completely, his skull had been fractured and caused the internal bleeding, he'd broken three ribs, his left wrist, and had dislocated a shoulder, but he'd survived, and he was awake when Armin arrived. 

Armin took careful strides towards the place where Jean lay, cradling his broken arm timidly against his chest. 

"Jean,"Armin whispered, face flushed and lower lip trembling. "I thought you died," he squeaked weakly. His chest felt constricted and oxygen was scarce.

Jean cracked a smile though his lip was split and busted badly. "I thought I did, too."

Silence settled over them as it always did, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. Armin sat on the edge of the bed, Jean moved his hand to make room and rested it once again on Armin's thigh. 

"I'm-" Armin felt his words lodge in his throat. He coughed painfully and a trembling breath escaped his parted lips when he doubled over. "Jean, I am so, so sorry. For everything. I'm sorry I cheated. I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I wasn't open. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you when it mattered. I'm sorry I blamed you. I am so sorry." His teeth ground together. His face was wet. 

Jean's eyes slipped closed and the rise and fall of his chest became more rapid and ragged. His lower lip was caught between unrelenting teeth. He began to bleed from the split there.

"Jean?"

"I'm sorry, too." Jean finally said. His voice was weak but his eyes held sincerity. "I'm sorry because I wouldn't let you leave. I didn't give you a choice, Armin, and you did what you needed to do. I'm sorry for holding you back, but-"

"I love you, Jean, alright? I do. Don't worry, and don't apologize to me. It's okay." Armin's fingers traced the inside of Jean's palm. "It's going to be okay now."

Jean sighed through his nose. "I'm sorry it had to come to this for us to realize we were both twats."

Armin laughed and took Jean's cold hand between both of his as he stood, placing it back on the bed gingerly. "So am I," Armin smiled and pressed a kiss to the crown of Jean's head. "I'll be here every day, alright? I'm going to visit you every day. You can count on me this time."

"Ill hold you to it," Jean murmured.

As Armin turned to leave, Jean's voice caught him just under the threshold.

"Armin," Jean called.

He froze. "Yeah?"

There was an extended paused. "Can you-" Jean wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, dabbing at the blood there, before his honey colored eyes rose and they locked gazes for the first time in weeks. "Can you tell Eren I said thank you? Please?"

There was no hostility or bitterness to be found in the traces of Jean's words. Armin wanted to ask why. He wondered what he'd missed or what made Jean not scowl at Eren's name. But, he figured it wasn't his place to know. Though taken aback, Armin nodded eagerly. 

"I would love to," Armin said.

As Armin turned to leave, he noticed Jean's mouth fall open once more before snapping closed as he studied his hands. Intense lines creased his forehead.

"What is it?" Armin asked, refusing to leave until he got a suitable response.

"Nothing," Jean replied. His voice was soft and wholesome, no longer containing the ragged and intimidating harshness. In Armin's eyes, he was the same Jean from grad school. Adulthood hadn't ruined him after all.

"No, you were going to say something. I saw it. We're basing this new friendship off proper communication, so... communicate."

"It's nothing," Jean repeated.

Armin crossed his arms awkwardly over his chest; the electric blue cast wrapped around his forearm hardly helped in making him look stern. 

Eren had picked the color.

"Just," Jean sighed, "I want you to know that I love you, too, alright? I'm here for you 'till the end no matter who you're dating or where you end up. You're the best thing to have ever happened to me and," he shrugged, "don't forget me, alright?

"Jean," Armin huffed a breathy laugh, "that's like asking the sun not to forget to rise, or telling the sea to remember to meet the shore. I'm not me without you. I couldn't forget you, or this, even if I wanted to. Together 'till the end."

Jean nodded, meek smile dancing on his chapped lips. "'Till the end."

"See you tomorrow?" Armin asked, halfway out the door.

"I'll be here."

"Good, don't move," Armin instructed.

Jean smirked. "I'll try my best."

 

"Well?" Eren asked at the entrance of the hospital, hand outstretched for Armin to grab onto.

Armin took the offer eagerly and allowed himself to be dragged along to the spot where Eren's car was parked. 

"We're okay now," Armin smiled, and his heart swelled. "Everything is great, actually. It's just kind of... bizarre, I think."

"Bizarre?" Eren questioned, thumb rubbing along Armin's knuckles.

"Yeah, it's just that I always blamed him because I was miserable. There was never a time when I considered that maybe I was making the situation much harder than it had to be, and that's just crazy to me now. I mean, I know I've always been a coward, you know? But I never thought that my fear would control me like it did. What if I had told Jean two months ago? Or four? What if I had told him the moment I lost interest in romance with him? I was so scared that I never considered who I was affecting. I never thought life would be okay again, so I just wanted to cling to everything I had. I thought I ruined everything."

"Listen, Armin," Eren's voice was a warm blanket during a fierce winter night. It was safe. It was comfort and home. "Fear is necessary, and you are perfect just the way you are. Actually, being scared is probably one of the best qualities you can have, you wanna know why?"

Armin nodded.

"See, without fear, you get reckless. Trust me on this, I'm the master of being reckless and making bad decisions because I just want to  _feel_ something. For so long, I was unafraid of everything life threw at me, and I almost died because of it. I'm glad that you have the fear I didn't. Fear is necessary in self preservation. It keeps you alive. It pushes you to overcome. It builds strength, and Armin, you're one of the strongest people I know. Don't you dare call yourself a coward. You're just as brave as the rest of us. You're just a lot smarter about it."

"I made both of you suffer," Armin countered stubbornly.

Eren smirked. "You did what you thought you needed to do. That's what self preservation is, Armin. You took the path that you thought was necessary, and things got a little fucked up along the way," Eren shrugged. "It happens. We forgive you, and I think it's time you forgave yourself, yeah? Self loathing really doesn't suit you."

"What does suit me?" Armin asked, flexing his fingers in his cast.

Humming, Eren slowed his walk. "What suits you? Warm summer days and big 'ol smiles. Flowers in your hair and long hugs. Stargazing on the beach and sleeping 'till noon just because you're an adult and you make your own rules. Happiness, Armin. Happiness suits you. You look like the embodiment of sunshine, and happiness just suits you."

"Happiness," Armin pondered, eyes grazing the parking lot. He felt Eren looking at him. "I'm getting there. Because of you, I'm getting there."

Armin caught his lower lip between his teeth and finally looked at Eren's face as daylight began to fade. His eyes were the color of life and that lopsided smile that never failed to make Armin's heart flip erratically was prominent, teeth glistening behind parted lips. His mind flipped back to months ago when Eren sported a busted lip and a mouth full of blood. His hair glistened under street lamps, dowsed in beer and shards of broken bottles. There were still scars from the night which Armin traced in the dead of night to lull himself to sleep.

Memories flooded his minds eye with blinding celerity. He remembered Levi the cabbie, the walls stacked with photos of Eren and Mikasa, the bad coffee, the borrowed work shirts, the coffee mug that had incidentally reunited them, the Ask Alice articles, the not-date at the aquarium, the walks in the parks, the desperate talks with Connie, the nights spent fighting and screaming, as well as the silent nights he opted to lock himself away in the guest bedroom of his broken home. He'd wanted an escape back then. Mostly, he only remembered misery.

In the dimness of war, hope was never evident. That didn't mean it wasn't there, though.

There was always hope. A silver lining.  

The sun always found its way back, twice as bright as it was before. The darkness dissipated. Happiness was always waiting at the end of the darkest tunnels and deepest valleys. 

There was  _always_ hope. 

Armin hadn't wanted to open his eyes to it, but that didn't mean it was never there. 

 

Eren had started driving, and Armin wasn't really sure where they were going. He didn't mind.

"Hey," Armin breathed, "Jean told me to tell you he said thank you. Why?"

"Jeanbo and I kinda became friends over the past couple weeks," Eren shrugged.

"Friends? You and Jean?"

"Kind of. Only _kind of_ friends," Eren huffed a soundless laugh, "I owed him just as many apologies as you did." Eren wet his lips," I came into his room one night when I thought he was still sleeping, and I explained everything. Every single little tiny detail, I told him all of it. I told him not to blame you. I told him that it was my fault, because it is. I told him that I was the one who let him down, and I didn't care how he felt until I actually saw him in that hospital bed. I kind of forgot that he was a human being too, you know? I forgot that he wasn't the enemy, and that we were a lot more similar than I ever wanted to admit. I apologized. I don't know how many times I said I was sorry. I think I started crying after apology number two out of like fifty, I don't remember.

I didn't think he was awake, but he was. He cleared his throat to get my attention and said 'it's okay, you asshole. stop with the waterworks. it's okay.' Every night after that I visited his room and just talked to him about shitty things that didn't matter like sports or cars or television shows. All that manly guy stuff. He needed company just as much as I did. He's not as bad as I wanted to believe, and you know what? I've never been happier to be wrong. I'm kind of thankful for him, too. I should be. He led me to you."

All of Armin's insides felt warm, like his life was finally pulling itself together and ironing out all the wrinkles and damaging tears. "You-" Armin felt his vocabulary lacked the words he needed. "Have I ever told you how incredible you are?"

Eren flipped his hair with a dramatic twist of the wrist. "Not nearly enough."

Armin rolled his eyes. "Forget I even said anything. Where are we going?"

"The beach," came the simple response.

Armin scowled. "But I look gross and my arm itches under this cast. What if I get sand in it?"

"Well, damn, Armin, I wasn't planning on rolling around in it. Come on, we don't have to stay long. Five minutes tops. There's something I need you to see."

Armin sighed. "Four and a half minutes. That's my limit."

"It's a deal," Eren cracked a smile and Armin almost melted right there in his seat. He kept his gaze strictly trained out the wind shield for the rest of the ride before he was convinced to do anything else he didn't want to do. 

 

When Eren parked his outdated hatchback, he did so violently. The entire care lurched forward and fell back just short of being whiplash inducing. The parking lot Eren had settled on had definitely seen its better days as the pavement was now covered in weeds and sand blown in from the shore.

The sun sat heavy in the sky, glowing golden pink and fiery yellow against a backdrop of heavy blues and purples. Wispy grey clouds allowed themselves to be blown across the horizon. 

"Eren," Armin cast him a sidelong glance.

"Come on, come on!" Eren grabbed Armin by his good arm and pulled him along in a light jog down the boardwalk into into soft sand. Their running pace as slowed drastically as they tried to haul themselves through the thick sand. Eren laughed all the while and Armin, despite how badly he wanted to jut go home, couldn't help but laugh, too. "There's something you need to see before the sun goes down!"

"I'm moving as fast as I can!" Armin barked past a growing smile, "I'm not an athlete, I'm a journalist."

"Excuses," Eren chided before stopping in his tracks and backpedaling. Before Armin could get a word in edgewise, Eren had his hand clamped over Armin's eyes.

"Uh?" Armin stopped moving completely.

"It's a surprise," Eren whispered close to his ear. Violent shivers raced down Armin's spine. He had no objection.

"Okay."

They walked on with Eren keeping one hand over Armin's eyes and the other clamped firmly against the small of his back for guidance and support.

"Are we there yet?" Armin asked for the third time in a row.

"What are you, five?"

"And three quarters. Seriously, Eren, I think we've passed the four and a half minute time limit-"

Eren's hand fell away, and Armin was pretty sure his heart stopped beating in the same moment.

There, midst the sand, rocks, and dunes, constructed of drift wood and shotty craftsmanship, stood the words "Marry Me" illuminated by the sun settling on the horizon.

A trembling hand found Armin's mouth when his jaw dropped.

"Eren," his voice was on the brink of tears, "how did you-?"

"I hired Connie. Terrible idea, but we got it done by some miracle. Not without maximum complaining, but that's what I should have expected." Eren's laugh was shaky and practically dripping with nervous energy. He gnawed on his lip to make up for the way his voice quivered. "So?" He asked, "What do you think?"

"Are you kidding?"

"I mean I know it's soon, and it's okay if you don't know how to feel or what to do. You don't have to agree I was just-"

"Eren, shut up for a second," Armin laughed, "you didn't even let me have my big 'yes' moment"

"Your big-"

"Yes, Eren, you goof. Yes. A million times yes."

Though Armin had been weary of sand in his cast, that didn't stop him from launching himself at Eren and laughing as they both tumbled back into large, grassy dunes. Armin pressed kisses against Eren's face and Eren tangled his fingers in the back of Armin's shirt. Strong arms pinned Armin in place as he nuzzled his face in Eren's shoulder. 

"I love you," Armin whispered into the fabric of Eren's well worn tee-shirt.

"Yeah," Eren breathed, "you're alright, too, I guess."

Armin rolled his eyes and twisted the ends of Eren's hair between his finger tips. "I can settle for that."

"Did I ever tell you you had low standards?" The question fell playfully from Eren's tongue.

"You need to reevaluate your definition of low standards."

Eren sighed, gaze transfixed on the now navy sky. "Maybe I do," he agreed.

Their visit to the beach lasted well over five minutes, but Armin found that there was no place else he'd rather be. 

 

The date for the wedding was set to be March 22nd of the following year, and months of preparation passed like seconds. The planning brought everyone together as a team with Armin being the brains behind the operation and Mikasa and Eren working to fulfill Armin's every direction. Connie booked a church and Sasha planned out meals. Even Jean helped as much as he could between physical therapy sessions and work phone calls. Some things never changed, but that was okay. 

Jean was dedicated and loyal to his work. Armin could appreciate that now as a best friend rather than lover. Jean had taken on the roll of being a friend easily and without complaint. 

Growing up, Armin had lacked a healthy family. Now, with much delay and heartache, he'd finally found one that had been stitched together like a patchwork quilt. None of them quite fit together, yet as a single unit they were something to be admired. 

Armin loved each of them deeply and individually down to the very center of his core. He loved them. 

 

On the night of Wednesday, March 18th, skeptical nerves finally settled in, and Armin discovered that trying to sleep was actually impossible. He couldn't lay still with Eren sleeping peacefully beside him. Pacing the floors didn't help. Television, though mind numbing, did little to rest his raging thoughts. After little thought, Armin took up his cell phone, stepped outside, and called Jean.

He answered nearly immediately.

"Armin? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. I just need someone to talk to, and I think I've used up all of Connie's kindness and wisdom."

Jean groaned as he stretched and a long yawn extended through the call. "I don't think it's possible for Connie to run out of kindness. Wisdom, I'm not sure I'm convinced he had in the first place. Still, what's up?"

"What if this doesn't work out? What if- what if after five years history repeats itself?"

It was something that had bothered Armin for a long while, but he'd never uttered a word to Eren. He couldn't. _  
_

"So what if it does?" Jean asked.

"Jean," Armin groaned.

"No, seriously, Armin. So what if it does? Maybe fairy tale endings don't exist. Maybe you'll get tired of each other and call it quits before things get too out of hand, and you'll move on and find your next love story. All that matters is that you're happy right now. Are you happy, Armin?"

"I'm happy," he confirmed.

"Then you have nothing to worry about. Forever doesn't have to be endless years. You can find forever in just a second of true happiness. Stop focusing on the future, and focus on what's happening right now. That's a bad habit of yours, you know? You spend your time worrying about the future and forget that the present is happening right now, and you can change it. You're your own worst enemy, and you stand in your own way, so move, Armin." Jean took a long break, allowing amicable silence to simmer over the line. "Can I make a request?"

"Hm?"

"Let yourself be happy, Armin. Like really, actually happy. I don't want you to be content; that's bullshit. I want you to be so obnoxiously happy that you make other people sick, and when you stop being happy, you work through that slump until you're back on top. Don't let history repeat itself. Don't keep yourself tied down for other people's sake. Don't let our relationship happen again. For God's sake, get the hell out of dodge if you're sensing that whole ordeal repeating," he gave a groggy laugh. "Just, stop focusing on the 'what if's' and focus on right now. Focus on the important stuff like how much Eren clearly loves you and how much I support you. Hell, I'm pretty sure Mikasa would kill for you if you asked, and Connie probably already has. The present is a great time to be living in, Armin. Do what you want right now and damn the consequences. We'll burn those other bridges when we get to them, okay?"

"We deserve happiness forever," Armin whispered. 

"We're finding our way. Me and you 'till the end."

"Thank you, Jean."

"Yeah," Jean whispered, "hey, Armin?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I make another request?"

"You're reaching your limit," Armin's smile could be heard in his voice.

"This is the last one, promise. Speaking of Mikasa," he cleared his throat, "during the reception, seat us together, will you?"

Armin's smile turned into a cheeky smirk. "Oh, you ladies man; I'll see what I can convince Eren to do."

"Thanks." Armin heard Jean flop back against his mattress, "oh and one more thing."

Laughing, Armin rubbed his forehead. "What is it, Jean?"

"Promise me that you'll learn from all of this. Don't run around behind Eren's back. Don't lie to him. Learn from this, but also learn to let it go. It's all in the past, and history doesn't always have to repeat itself. The only way that will happen is if you aren't actively trying to prevent it. You work your ass off in this marriage, and, Armin Arlert, you just might find your fairy tale ending after all."

Tears pricked at Armin's eyes as he leaned over the banister of Eren's third story apartment, overlooking the entire city of Trost. In the distance, if he tried hard enough, Armin could almost spot the bar where they all began. 

"Please don't forget that I never stopped loving you," Armin's voice trembled, but he was smiling regardless.

Jean laughed. "How could I? It takes a special kind of passion to deal with me for this long."

"You're not wrong," Armin jabbed. 

"Thanks, you little shit." Jean yawned again. "I'm going to bed now. It's like four in the morning. Don't forget about that seating arrangement thing."

"Mikasa at your table. Got it."

"Good," Jean already sounded half asleep. "Night, Armin."

"Wait."

"Huh?"

"Can I ask a favor from you now?"

"I guess so?"

"Take a picture with me at the wedding. I want one of us smiling. It's important."

Jean sounded confused, but he agreed regardless.

"We haven't taken a picture together since college. But, I mean, if that's what you want, then sure. Let's just have our own photo shoot." Another yawn. "Sleep well, Armin."

"You too," Armin breathed and shoved his phone in the pocket of his sleeping pants taking in the brisk March air.

Calm washed over him and soothed his raging nerves. 

 

Perhaps Jean was right about the concept of forever and the fleeting nature of living happily ever after. He and Eren were so much more than those concepts anyway. It was no secret that their relationship wasn't Disney movie material. They were never meant for Pumpkin Carriages and Glass Slippers. They were never granted a Fairy God Mother who offered to make their troubles fall away for even a single night. No, rather they were forced to rely on the hopelessness of wishing on raindrops, praying to shooting stars, and throwing shots in the dark. That was okay, though, because, as far as Armin was concerned, those methods hadn't failed them yet.

 

The wedding proceeded without a hitch, and it marked a milestone for Armin's dedication to achieving the happiness he'd worked so hard to deserve.

 

The relationship he and Eren shared was the product of a bad day that had spiraled out of control after one too many drinks. They were based on coincidence and extremely good timing.

Maybe fate had been on their side all along and Armin had been too stubborn to acknowledge it. 

Maybe he didn't have to worry quite so much after all.

They were happy. They had found peace, and that was enough. 


End file.
